Convicts and Exiles by Gail Z. Martin

Author:Gail Z. Martin [Martin, Gail Z.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: SOL Publishing

3

The Hunt

“I can’t believe he’s sending us out on the hunt.” Blaine flexed his left hand, still trying to regain all of the sensation in his fingers after nearly freezing aboard the herring boat. “Ifrem was right—Prokief is going to make it as hard as possible for us to earn our Tickets of Leave.”

“I can’t believe that still surprises you.” Piran’s tone made no secret of his loathing for the commander. “He’s a sadistic son of a bitch.”

It was the second day after their disastrous run on the herring boats, and well into their second day of confinement. A day’s confinement was normal when prisoner work crews changed assignments, moving from the mines to the herring fleet, or from the farm fields to lumbering. Two days was unusual, and it made Blaine wonder if Prokief might still be sorting out the debacle with the fishing boats.

“What Mick means is, he can’t believe Prokief would want to be stuck with the two of you any longer than he has to be,” Garrick said, and the others laughed.

“Prokief doesn’t lose well,” Dunbar added. “Letting prisoners leave Velant alive might seem like losing to him. But he can’t kill all of us. King Merrill wouldn’t get his herring or his rubies. He might notice.” He shrugged. “Prokief’s a madman. Who knows why he does what he does?”

“I didn’t survive all this time just to get killed on a hunt a few months before I earn my Ticket,” Blaine muttered.

“Then get revenge. Don’t die,” Garrick replied.

Blaine hoped it would be a simple as it sounded. Wolf hunts were a necessity when Edgeland’s wolves grew bold and ventured close to the prison stockade and into the farmyards of the colonists. During the White Nights, when prisoners worked in Velant’s fields and headed to the forest for lumber, teams of wolf hunters made regular forays to cull the packs and weed out the most aggressive hunters. During the Long Dark, the prisoners had fewer reasons to venture outside the stockade, but it still benefitted both the prison and the colony for the wolf packs to be held at bay.

Stuck in their barracks, there was little to do except sleep, wager, or talk. After almost three years together, none of the men, not even the thieves, would play Piran at cards. Some of the men huddled in small groups betting on dice. Verran leaned against the wall playing tunes on his pennywhistle. Of late, Blaine noticed Verran’s songs tended to be tavern ditties popular before they were exiled, and he wondered if it was Verran’s way of readying himself to earn extra coin playing at the Crooked House once they were released.

Verran paused his playing and looked up. “Prokief must be pretty desperate to let the two of you have weapons,” he said. “Even with precautions.”

“I suspect that’s why he’s made it very clear the rest of you are a surety,” Piran grumbled. Blaine, Piran, Carl, and Bickle had been assigned to the wolf hunt which would leave in two days.

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