Day 22
I watched in amazement as Runner wriggled in the noose. I was getting really hard as Runner jerked and thrust with his hips. I was letting him go three minutes now, and it appeared he could go longer. His form, I judged, was as good as a First Year after about three months — but without any formal instruction, just imitating me.
I grasped Runner gently at the hips and let his feet find the log, ending the practice session. As I untied his wrists, Runner twisted around to kiss me, his glowing face projecting an emotion that I understood very well. I had felt it just minutes earlier, after my own hanging practice. I had taught Runner to tie a knot, so I could now hang with my hands bound. That meant I could practice without having to think about keeping my fingers wrapped tight behind me. It made me feel that much freer as I danced in the air. Runner was aware of my body while I was hanging, so he could easily spot my foot waggle. Then he would help me back onto the tree stump.
We had turned south two days ago, following the coast. We were headed for either Liberty or Fairhold — I didn't know which town was the nearer. Tradition was now alert to the presence of two escaped slaves, and the marten could describe me accurately, even if he did have a killer headache. I didn't want to remain anywhere in the vicinity. Purity, the largest of the coastal trading communities, lay to the north. So I had decided to head the other direction.
We should have arrived yesterday, despite my slow progress with the hobble chain, but we had to detour around a large farm co-op, too close to the beach to sneak past on the sands. Then a deluge of rain had caused hours of delay while we waited near the bank of a swollen, hard-rushing river. Even Runner, with no chains, had been reluctant to try crossing it himself, let alone carrying Puppy. Nightfall had come with the river still uncrossed; the rain not hadn't slackened until sometime after sunset.
By morning the rain had receded to a heavy mist, and the river was a slow, shallow trickle. We crossed it, feet (and booties, for Puppy) squelching in the mud, then looked for breakfast and a place to work on hanging.
As Runner hopped down from the stump, I shaded my eyes from an unexpected burst of morning sunlight from over the water and peered off in the distance, out to sea and along the shoreline. I nudged Runner, who was just finishing dressing, and pointed. "There! See that... it's like a bridge, but it just goes a little way out into the water and stops?" Runner had learned about bridges when we were following the trail from the mountains. "When a boat comes, it will stop next to that, and they'll take things off the boat and put things on it."
Runner gaped. "Do you see any boats?" He scanned the ocean eagerly. "When will one get here?"
"I don't know."
Day 25
On the morning of the fourth day of waiting, I began to wish we had gone to Purity after all. The town had a boat dock, about two hundred feet from where we Runner sat on the ground, hidden by the deep shade of the trees. Puppy was wandered the area, returning occasionally for some petting. Clearly the town did some direct trading with the mainland, but probably not as much as Purity, the largest of the towns. But I didn't want to be anyplace where there were large crowds of settlers. On the other hand, maybe big crowds would serve as better cover. And...
I cut off the line of thought. We're here and we're not there. We're safe where we are, and traveling always presents its own dangers. We'll wait it out here.
Across from me, Runner looked up from studying the game board and jumped to his feet. "Wynn, what's that?" He was pointing out toward the ocean.
I turned and gasped. I could hear the distant growl of the engines, now. It was hard to see the boat, let alone determine what direction it was heading, the dim daylight under the usual heavy cloud cover was not much help.
Looking at the dock, I suddenly saw increased activity. Yes! I decided, my heart pounding. It's coming here!
About fifteen minutes later, the boat had reached the dock and was tied to it. It was about a forty-footer. As the crew and townsmen cooperated in tying it to the dock, I gestured with my head toward Runner's clothes. "Get ready. We might need to go soon."
Runner seemed to shake himself out of a trance. He'd been staring at the boat, barely speaking, for the entire time since we spotted it. He nodded and began dressing.
Puppy chose this inconvenient time to begin whining. I held my arms out and Puppy nuzzled up against me, giving my face a few licks. I gave him some absent caresses that seemed to satisfy him for the time being.
At present, there was not much visible interaction between the boat and the locals. One of the townsmen did board the boat, talking briefly with a crewman. Probably inevitably, some local teenagers were attracted to the activity, starting up a game that looked like keep-away. I could hear the laughter of the kids. They were generally younger than Runner looked, none of them accompanied by slaves. I had no intention of trying to join the crowd until Runner and I would fit in, unnoticed. The time, if there would be one, had not come yet.
My attention was caught by a coyote walking from one adult to another. It looked as though he was handing out sheets of paper. I wondered what news he could possibly be distributing that the settlers of the town didn't already know. The coyote arrived at the boat and handed a copy to a crewman, then went to a nearby post and hammered a copy of the flyer to the post. An unwelcome thought passed through my mind. I had a very bad feeling about this. My eyes still glued to the scene at the dock, I reached over and touched Runner's forearm. "Runner, could you go bring me one of those things he's giving out? Just walk up to him and say, 'Could I get one of those?'... I think I'll keep Puppy with me this time. Get back here fast if you hear barking."
Runner nodded and dashed into the woods, taking a roundabout route toward the dock.
Minutes later, I held my breath as Runner appeared by the dock, trying to look like he belonged. He worked up his courage and spoke to the coyote. He handed Runner one of the sheets and immediately turned his attention elsewhere.
Soon after, I heard the sound of footsteps coming toward me. I tensed up, then breathed easier when I saw it was Runner returning.
It was indeed a stiff sheet of paper Runner was holding, a poster. "I did what you said. He just said , 'Sure, sonny,' and gave me one." With a puzzled look, he held it toward me. There was a drawing at the top, and my heart sank. I was right, I told myself gloomily.
Runner was brushing his fingertips across the drawing. "Wynn, this is like you! Your face. Except it's flat..." He seemed about to go on, but couldn't find words. He handed the sheet to me.
Apparently, the islanders had some rudimentary printing equipment. Maybe equivalent to a small-town newspaper a century ago.
It was indeed a drawing of me, a fairly decent bit of police-sketch artwork. It limned the basic lines of my face, and included those few links of chain hanging down from the front of my collar. The settlers at the dock would be looking out for me now — me specifically, not just a vaguely-suspected escaped slave.
Below the drawing was the printed text:
RUNAWAY!
WANTED FOR ATTACKING A SLAVE-HUNTER
CAUSING GREAT BODILY HARM
AND ESCAPING HIS CUSTODY
The prey anthro here pictured should be brought immediately to the magistrate. It may be traveling with another slave, and a stolen dog. Use extreme care in capturing it, as the other slave may attack. This slave may pretend to be from the Old Country, and may try to sound like a trader. Both slaves should be returned to Tradition for public paddling. Standard reward for each slave is hereby doubled.
I looked up from reading the poster aloud to Runner. Runner was looking at me fearfully, his coppery skin pale. He asked softly, "How is it making you say that?"
I looked helplessly back toward the dock, and said hoarsely, "They know about me, Runner. They know what I look like. I can't go down there. They'll see me and know I'm the prey anthro this is talking about."
Runner was shaking his head. "Talking? It's not talking, Wynn. You're talking." He was drawing away, obviously afraid.
My mind was on the message of the poster. It took me some time to understand the problem. Perhaps I should have explained this the first time it came up. I forced a smile, holding the poster toward Runner, who backed farther away. "Runner, it's not..." I realized Runner might not know the word "magic." I tried to think of another way to explain it, and couldn't come up with one. "Runner, this is okay. It's nothing that can hurt you. See these marks?" I traced some of the letters with my fingertip. "These are called letters, and the letters together make words, like the words we use. That's a word..." I held my fingers spaced apart at the beginning and ending of one of the words of the text, "...and that's a word, and that's a word..."
Runner had stopped retreating. "You... just look at it? And it says words to you?"
"Sort of like that, but not out loud. When you've seen letters like this before, you just remember what word they make."
Runner reached out and took the poster, looking it over in fascination. "Do they teach you that at the Academy?"
I gave him a small smile. "We learn it before we get to the Academy. Every student..." I stopped suddenly. How could I have thought Runner could just jump right into Academy classes in September, when the new First Years arrived? Reading was such a major part of our studies, and Runner was more profoundly illiterate than even a three-year-old. The smallest child at least knew what reading was, long before he could do it himself.
No time to worry about that now. First we have to get home.
And how? My plan had involved identifying myself to the crew of the boat and begging for their help in returning to the mainland. Now I couldn't get near the boat without passing through a knot of island settlers who would recognize me from this poster. It wouldn't even help if Runner was with me. In fact, it would be worse: they would decide Runner was an escaped slave and capture him too.
I wondered again at my decision to let the marten go after Runner had knocked him out cold. If I hadn't, the settlers down there wouldn't be looking at this poster now.
On the other hand, the discovery of a dead slave-hunter, the unlocked trap nearby, would paint an obvious picture of something that might never have happened here before — the murder of a settler by a slave. The sensation caused by that would have set off an even larger, more determined slave hunt. And I didn't want to imagine the sort of punishment I'd be in for if I was caught.
And I really, really didn't want to kill anybody. It was nothing like snuffing a willing boy; I'd done that several times. But predators didn't have the satisfaction of becoming fur to look forward to. Being a predator had always seemed empty to me. But then, I'd never been one. Maybe it was different from their point of view. But a predator dead was simply dead, not fur. I couldn't bear bringing that about.
What's done is done, I reminded myself. I did what I did. I let him go, he set off a hunt for me, and here we are. I can't change that.
Runner was running his fingers over the text as he had earlier with the drawing. "Wynn, can you teach me to hear the words?"
I managed another smile, in the face of my newest worry. "It takes a long time, Runner. First we need to get home." I wondered what meaning the word "home" had taken on in Runner's mind. Probably accurate enough, considering how I'd been using it. And the Academy was going to be Runner's home. There was a staff of non-students there. I would make sure Runner had a place there somewhere.
I stretched out on the ground, on my stomach, watching the dock. "We need to watch. See what they do. See if there's some time we could get to the boat without the settlers seeing us."
Runner set the poster aside and lay down beside me, also watching. Puppy lay quietly on my other side, rubbing up against me but not insisting on any fondling. We waited.
Within an hour, a team of slaves had assembled on the dock. They went below decks, and came out of the cargo hold with crates. Two slaves held each crate by handles on either side, straining to lift them and staggering toward town.
I forced myself to stop biting my lip. I noticed the pain when my teeth had scraped it raw. Runner murmured, "Can you just go down with one of those boys? And then stay?"
I shook my head tensely. "Somebody down there knows who all those slaves are. Even the slave I went with would know I don't belong there. And we have to get you and Puppy on the boat somehow too."
Runner was looking at the poster. "Does it say..." He paused, and closed his eyes, trying to remember the words. "'This slave may pretend to be from the Old Country.'?" He looked at me. "Is that what you call it where you live? 'The Old Country'?"
I sighed. "That's what that means, yes. If I could get close to the ones on the boat — the sailors — if I could talk to them, they'd know where I'm from. I know too many things nobody from here knows. But the settlers from the town... They're all around, down there. Even if they look at me and didn't think about me being the slave on the poster, as soon as they hear me talk, they'd remember what it says. They'd know I'm the slave they're looking for. They'd drag me away and... you know."
"The sailors — would they know what a Hanging Boy is?"
I shrugged. "They should. They probably haven't seen one, but I think everybody knows about us. But..." I gestured helplessly toward the boat. "I just can't get close enough to tell them!" Tears started streaming down my face. To be so close and not be able to get any closer! That damned trap! If only I'd remembered to wear the vine that day! If I'd worn it, no trap, no hunter, no description of me, no poster...
"Wynn, you don't have to tell them! They can see you from here!"
My mouth dropped open. I turned my head toward Runner so fast my neck hurt. I stared at him for a few seconds, then I shot up onto my feet. Puppy didn't understand; he yelped and backed away.
I examined the area around us. We were pretty-well hidden where we were. Suddenly, I didn't want to be hidden. The trees gave way to a bluff that led down to the beach just ahead of us. Cautiously, I shuffled to my left just behind the front line of trees. Here, I thought, this will work. Standing where I was now, I had a clear view of the boat itself, while the trees to my right shielded me from being seen by anyone on the dock.
I growled in frustration. The foliage overhead left everything in the shadows. Nobody on the boat would be able to pick me out from the dark background of the dense forest behind me. But if I stepped forward much farther, out of the deep shadows, the townsmen would spot me as soon as the boat crew did.
Looking up, I was startled to see a patch of blue sky directly overhead. There had been none for days. As Runner said, "Wynn, what..." I held up my hand, palm outward, and Runner stopped. I stood still, staring upward, trying to judge where the edge of the break in the clouds was headed...
Yes! Yes! I looked around, almost frantic, and pointed to a nearby log. "Runner, help me with that! We need to get it over here. I'm going to stand on it right here and we're going to hang me."
Together, both gasping with effort, we half lifted, half dragged the log into position. I stood on it a moment, nodded, then leapt toward the bag holding our noose. I tied it quickly to the overhanging branch, and handed Runner the short vine for securing my wrists. I pulled the noose down over my head and tightened it around my neck. It wasn't quite perfect: Runner hadn't had the training in noose placement that we got at the Academy, and that secret was not mine to give. I put my hands behind my back so Runner could slip the vine through the rings on my cuffs and knot it.
I stood then, as motionless as I could, maintaining my balance on the log's uneven surface.
"Wynn, aren't you going to..."
I shook my head. "I need to wait for the sunlight. It's still too dark here for anybody to see me."
I had been through some long waits before, but this seemed the longest ever. The ragged edge of the cloud cover was creeping out ahead of me, like a paintbrush leaving a trail of electric blue behind it.
The mid-morning sun was going to be creeping steadily higher behind those clouds. If it got too high before the departing clouds uncovered it, the overhead leaves would keep it from illuminating me. Come on, I thought, come on!
On the boat, activity was beginning again, the reverse of the earlier process, as pairs of slaveboys carried crates onto the deck of the boat and took them below. I didn't know how long that would take, but I suspected the boat would be leaving before long, its trading finished. Two crewmen were supervising on deck, and a third occasionally appeared from below.
My heart was thundering as the edge of the clouds took on a silvery glow. In less than a minute it was too bright to look at.
I closed my eyes. I was trembling, much too pumped to get enough breath while hanging. Calm down, Wynn, calm down. In a minute you'll be dangling. Everything will be okay. The bliss of the noose, in just a minute. Be cool, stay cool.
As the first direct sunlight burst out from behind the cloud, I stepped off.
I hadn't taken off the hobble-chain vine — I hardly ever did anymore — so my kicking was even more restricted than usual. But I could shimmy and wriggle my body, I could thrust my hips, and I concentrated on doing that more erotically than ever before.
As I'd expected, the calmness washed over me, the feeling of being at home, no matter where I was, as long as I could hang.
As I wriggled, I watched the boat. I focused on one crewman in particular, a doberman hound facing in my direction as he watched the slaves go by lugging crates, his arms folded, his shoulder leaned casually against a bulkhead. Come on, I thought. Come on. Look at me! Look at me!
I couldn't see his eyes, under the shade of his hat, but I saw his head jerk up suddenly, his jaw dropping. Yes!!!
Two slaves walked by in front of him, neither of them looking toward me as they left the boat.
The crewman took quick looks left and right, then turned and leaned down toward the cargo hold. Then, looking rather casual, his hands in his pockets, he stepped off the boat and sauntered out of my sight along the dock.
My excitement suddenly overwhelmed the calm of the noose. I waggled my foot and felt Runner grabbing my hips, pulling me back over the log. As Runner reached behind me to untie the vine, I said, "Did you...?"
Runner cut me off, his own voice equally excited. "I saw him! What now, what now?"
My hands were now free; I pulled off the noose and hopped down from the stump. I put both hands on Runner's shoulders, holding Runner's eyes with my own. "Do exactly what we talked about. What's your name again?"
Instantly, Runner said, "Caleb." I had chosen a name in common use a century before. I had no idea whether it was used by the islanders today, but probably the doberman wouldn't know either.
I nodded, kissed him, and quickly said, "We can't do that anymore, until we get to the Academy. A settler wouldn't kiss a slave." I looked around almost frantically, struggling to determine whether anything more needed to be said or done. I pointed to Puppy. "Puppy might get upset when he sees the crewman. Try to keep him quiet. When we get on the boat, it's okay if he licks your face, but don't touch his nipples or cock while anybody's watching. And remember, don't take off your clothes — and especially your hat — no matter what..."
Runner held up his hand as he knelt beside Puppy. "I know, Wynn."
"Oh!" A thought bubbled up from the depths of my mind. I lowered my voice — the seaman might be close enough to overhear by now. "On the boat, don't pee or poop until I show you where to do that. They'll have a place for that.
Runner nodded. He was about to speak again, but now we both heard footsteps approaching, a whispery sound in the undergrowth.
My heart fluttered. If that's not him, we are so screwed. And even if it is him, there's no telling how this will come out.
I had momentary glimpses of him now, and at last a full view when he rounded the nearest tree. He stopped short, looking surprised, perhaps not realizing he'd gotten that close.
Relief washed over me; this was indeed the doberman from the boat, not a local. I'd only seen him from a distance, so I wouldn't have recognized his face, but his clothes were a giveaway. He wore denim shorts and a greasy short-sleeved pullover cotton shirt that had once been white. His hat was not one of the islanders' floppy leather ones; it had a bill in front to shade his eyes. He appeared about thirty, with unruly black headfur much shorter than the settlers wore theirs, and about three days worth of beard growth. His eyes widened when he saw me up close. He couldn't very well be amazed at my nudity; he'd been watching a parade of naked slaves all morning. Nonetheless, he the only conversational opening he could come up with was "Uhhhh...."
I went down on my knees, facing him. My eyes brimming with tears, my face expressing emotion that was only partly feigned, I said in a choked voice, "Please, get me out of here!"
"You're... you're him, right? The one they're looking for down there?"
Puppy's low growl, continuous since the doberman had appeared, boiled over into barking. Runner arrested Puppy's lunge in his direction, wrapping an arm gently across both shoulders underneath his neck while whispering, "Shhhh, it's okay, it's okay." He stroked Puppy's back soothingly, petting his fur. Puppy quieted, but continued to glare at the newcomer.
I rose to my feet, bringing his attention back to me. My initial reading of him confirmed my previous guess at the most likely successful strategy. Most prey, would instinctively try to seduce him, but I did my best to keep any seductive note out of my voice. Most predators fantasize that a gorgeous (naked!) slave will suddenly come on to them — but when it actually happens to them, their first instinct is to suspect a trick. I could more easily control him by conveying complete helplessness. "I'm the one. But you can tell I'm not from here, right? Listen to me talk. Do you think I could really talk like this if I was from here? They think I'm a runaway slave, but I'm from the mainland! You saw me hang, right? Nobody from here knows how to do that! Please, please, take me home!"
Of course, Runner was an exception to that last statement, but I planned to keep Runner's hanging ability under wraps, along with any sign of his species. I had considered having Runner pretend to be another Academy student, but Runner couldn't do the accent in any prolonged conversation — and then I remembered, more importantly, that nobody on the mainland looked like Runner did. Not many on the island did either, as far as I could tell. I had seen traces of native genes in a few of the settlers and a handful of slaves, but not to the extent Runner showed them. I was starting to wonder if perhaps both Runner's mother and father, strangers to each other except for a brief mating in the breeding farm, had both carried some native blood. I seemed likely and that they had somehow both managed to contribute disproportionate amounts of their native genetic heritage to the resulting embryo, creating a baby more purely native than either of them individually. It could happen.
I'd also considered having Runner be a slave, but the sailors would be unlikely to take the risk of stealing a work slave from the island. And if they did, I couldn't think of a way to ensure that they wouldn't keep him as their own sex slave afterward. The only plan I'd thought of with a chance of success was for Runner to be a local farmboy who wanted to see the amazing land where I lived, and insisted on bringing his pet dogboy along. That might make sense in a you-know-how-kids-are kind of way. As for Puppy, I would have to rely on the knowledge that rough sailors were not ordinarily drawn to puppyboys. Puppyboys were often used for sex, but that was not usually the main satisfaction in owning them.
The idea of leaving either Runner or Puppy behind was simply not worth considering. I was too much in debt to both of them for this opportunity.
I felt a love for Runner that I hadn't experienced since Maverick. If I couldn't take Runner along, I wasn't leaving.
The expression on the doberman's face told me he wanted to believe what I'd said. That counted as a plus. He probably did suspect, without knowing for sure, that no boy on the island could do what he had seen me doing. But he needed more. "How long have you been here?"
"About a month."
"Then you'd know who was the only one who won on 'Boyhunt' last year?"
My mind went blank for a moment, but came back to life an instant before panic set in. "Garth Hudson! CTV network, Thursdays at eight! He won a million dollars, they made a big deal of it, he went on all the morning shows the next week."
The doberman blinked, clearly convinced now, but his puzzled look grew deeper. "So what are you doing here? With all the..." he indicated my slaveware, "...stuff?"
I had decided that, the truth was going to be my best friend here. "I was kidnapped and left here. As a really, really cruel joke. A hate joke, only funny to the bastard who did it. I'm a graduate of the Hanging Academy. You saw what I can do. That's why you came up here, right?"
"Uhhh, yeah." His eyes widened at the memory. "That was pretty amazing."
"Please tell me you've heard of the Hanging Academy."
He nodded. "Oh, sure."
"You've seen a Hanging Boy show?"
He snorted. "I'm not that rich."
Perfect, I thought. He already knows the Academy means money. If there'd been any news out about a stolen Academy student, he'd remember it and mention it. So I guessed they had kept a lid on the story. I didn't want to bring it up myself. If I put it in the form of a question and he knew nothing about it, it might cast doubt on the rest of my story. It was crucial that he be absolutely convinced I was associated with the Academy. I would put on a more elaborate show for him, and the others, if necessary. "Want to be richer?"
"What do you mean?"
"I'm a missing Academy graduate. There'd be a reward for bringing me back."
"What kind of reward?"
I had no idea what sort of specifics to give him. Too small an amount would not seem worth his while, compared to the pleasure he could get from me as a sex slave. Too large an amount would not seem believable. In between was an ideal amount that would be both convincing and motivating, but I needed to know more about this sailor to know what it was. I put all the sincerity I could into my voice, and said, "Big."
The doberman folded his arms, looking at me silently for a time, as though weighing options. Then he twisted around to look back toward his boat. "How am I supposed to get you on board? I can't trash my reputation on this island by looking like I'm stealing one of their slaves. And they'd stop me anyway. I know about these people. They're pretty easy-going until you piss them off."
I let out a huge, real sigh. I was past the first hump — the doberman had made the decision to try to help me and was considering ways and means. Still, I needed more time to let the decision firm up before I added on the complication of Runner and Puppy. "What's your name?" It was time to make the issue more personal.
He turned back to me. "Huh? Oh, Justin. Justin Greene."
I stepped up to him with my hand held out. "I am so, so lucky you came along, Justin. My name is Wynn." We shook hands. I reflected that it was easy to suggest the idea that I would be very grateful if he could help me, even without being openly seductive.
I started the next step of my plan, making it look as though it had just occurred to me. "Oh! Do you think you could persuade another crew member to let me borrow his clothes? I mean, you could go get them and bring them here?"
He arched an eyebrow. "I'm the captain. So I guess I could get them to do just about anything."
I held my arms up, palms outward. "And do you have anything that can cut through these padlocks?"
He nodded. "No problem on that."
I smiled in relief. "That's how to get me on board, then. I can just walk on as a member of your crew. Maybe there could be a few comings and goings before that, so people watching lose track of how many of you are on shore. They won't be paying that much attention anyway. In fact, most of the settlers watching probably drift off after you've exchanged cargo. Don't they? The kids too?"
He scratched his chin. "Yeah, mostly."
I looked back at Runner, still crouched beside Puppy, watching the proceedings intently and silently. "And Caleb and the puppy can wait by the boat. He can ask your crew questions, and one of you can invite him on board to look around, when the other boys are gone."
Greene looked back and forth between Runner and me. "Huh? What?"
I banged the heel of my palm against my head. "I'm sorry, I forgot to introduce Caleb! He's coming with me."
Runner looked at Greene, and gave him a smile and a small wave. "Hi."
Greene frowned deeply. "So I'm supposed to kidnap a kid too?"
I looked at him seriously. "Justin, I wouldn't be here without him. And he's kind of burned his bridges. He helped me get away, and he'd be in so much trouble if he went home! And he wants to see where I live. He's imagining it's kind of a magical place. And it will be, to him! Anyway, I owe him so much for what he's done for me. I can't just abandon him here! He doesn't have a place here anymore." I took a deep breath. "If you'll do this one more thing for me, I'll make sure you and your crew are invited as guests to an Academy party. Do you know about the parties? You'd get to see a student snuffed by hanging, and you can spend some private bedroom time with me, or any student you want. Please, do this for me." I bit my lip in a show of anxiety that was entirely genuine. This was the last barrier, for myself and for Runner.
He folded his arms again, in what seemed to be his thinking posture. After a minute, he nodded. I'd offered him more than enough to justify the risk.