Treason by Orson Scott Card Read Free Book Online Page A

him were true—yet he seemed disposed to be obedient, and I thought perhaps there was a place for such things among the servile classes.
    At last we came to a fork in the road, with a sign.
    “Well,” I said, “here I send you back to your father.”
    “You won’t go to the capital, will you?” he asked fearfully.
    “Of course not,” I lied. Then I took a gold ring from my sack. “Did you think your father’s kindness would go unrewarded?” I put the ring on his finger. His eyes widened. It was enough, then, for payment.
    “But weren’t you poor?” he asked.
    “When I came I was,” I said, trying to sound very mystical. “But after the gifts your family gave me, I am very rich indeed. Tell no man of this, and command your father likewise.”
    The boy’s eyes widened even more. Then he whirled and ran back down the road. I had been able to put his stories to good use; and now I had added to the lore of angels who appeared to be poor men and women at first sight, but who gathered glory to bless or punish according as they had been treated. From man to woman to angel. Next transformation, please?
     
    “Money first,” said the man at the counter.
    I flashed a platinum ring at him and suddenly his eyes narrowed.
    “Stole it, I’ll swear!”
    “Then you’ll commit perjury,” I said archly. “I was set upon by rapists on one of your fine highways, and I who have come as an emissary. My guards slew them, but were slain in the process. I must continue in my mission, and I must be dressed as befits a woman of rank.”
    He backed off. “Pardon, lady.” He bowed. “However I may assist.” I did not laugh. And when I left the store I was dressed in the gaudy, tight, revealing style of clothing that had surprised me when I saw it on women on the way into the town.
    “Emissary from where?” he asked as I left. “And to whom?”
    “From Bird,” I said, “and to whoever is in authority here.”
    “Then find the nearest inker. Because no white person has rank here these days, lady, and all the inkers from Inkumai thinks they rules.”
    My white-blond hair attracted a few glances on the street, but I went on toward the stables, trying to ignore the men who watched me by using the haughty manner of the high-class whores of Mueller as they ignored the men too poor to afford their services.
    That was the full circle of my transformation. Man, monster, woman, angel, and now prostitute. I laughed. I would be surprised at nothing now.
    I parted with a platinum ring and got no change, but the carriage the stableman was hitching up belonged to me. The capital of Allison was still a good many kilometers on from this town, and I had to arrive in style.
    A thundering of wooden horseshoes on the stone road. I opened the door to the stable and stepped outside. A dozen horses at a walk clopped along the road, raising a deafening din. But I had no eyes for the horses. Instead I watched the riders.
    They were as tall as I was—taller, in fact, two meters if anything. And far blacker than any Cramers I had seen. They had narrow noses, not like the flat wide ones of the blacks I had known before. And every one of them carried an iron sword and an iron-studded shield.
    Even in Mueller we didn’t equip our common soldiers with iron until it was time for battle. How much metal did the Nkumai have?
    The stableman spat.
    “Inkers,” he said, behind me.
    But I ignored him and stepped out into the street, raising an arm in salute. The Nkumai soldiers saw me.
    Fifteen minutes later I was stripped to the waist and tied to a post in the middle of town. I decided that being a woman was not all it was cracked up to be. A fire was blazing nearby, and an iron brand was already glowing red.
    “Skinny, this one,” said one of the soldiers. He was nursing his elbow. I could have shattered the bone so he’d never have the use of his arm again. I could have put a hand into his throat so he dropped to the ground dead without even time to