Disclaimer: Tortall doesn't belong to me, obviously, but to the genius Tamora Pierce.

I decided it was time to start writing again, so here is my newest work. It's been about a year since I've written about Tortall and I think I've grown as a writer since, so this should be better than Kiyra and definitely better than the one about Kodi or whatever her name was. I hope you all like it.

Also, since there was some confusion when I originally posted this chapter, this fanfic does take place in Tortall. And yes, I know slavery is illegal in Tortall. Roll with it.

I wiped the sweat from my forehead and arched my back. The hot afternoon sun was brutal in the heat of summer and hard labor didn't help. I hefted the ax and resumed chopping down the thick pine. It was a majestic thing, but Lord Amrold wanted this section of the forest cleared by the fall.

"Comin' down!" Rolph bellowed, twenty yards to my side. I watched the tree fall, shivering with delight as it made a satisfactory tremor pass through the ground. Rolph surveyed the tree, then turned to us. "Some help?"

I laid my ax against the tree and headed towards Rolph. "Nice fell!"

Rolph grinned through his coarse beard. He was an intimidating figure of a man, tall and broad, with muscles like chains that I could only envy. However fierce he appeared, I knew him to have a gentle heart.

Karel and I secured the chains around the base of the trunk. As Karel's hands tightened the chains, he turned his excited blue eyes to me and began to whisper. "Gorden ran for the border 'bought five minutes ago. He's off to Corus."

I stared at him, shocked through to my core. "Karel, the dogs! The magic on the border! He's never gonna make it!"

"Shhh!" Karel hushed me, glancing at the overseer. "You don't know that."

Karel left me with the tree and headed back to his work, starting in with a desperate fervency. I shook my head. Karel had always been like my younger brother and I'd had the urge to protect him since I'd been eight and him only six. I didn't like his talk of escape and rebellion. It was bound to get him hurt.

"Ain't that right?" I asked the work horses. One tossed his head restlessly and stomped his feet. I took their lead and urged them on, checking behind me to make sure the fallen tree followed.

As the horses dragged the tree to a newly cleared clearing, I sang softly to myself. The rhythm matched the thud of Lotta's ax. Lotta grinned at me, recognizing her contribution to my song.

It was hard to get the rhythm out from my head. Everything we did had a beat and the blood in my veins seemed to pulse with it. Sometimes the beat was soft and slow, like when I was sleeping. Most of the time, the beat was fierce and powerful. It made work easier and I was used to hearing it.

I hadn't always heard the beat. Back before the chains, I lived in Corus. I don't remember a father and I hardly remember my mother. I spent most of my time in the streets with my older brothers, but I can barely remember them either. I was taken when I was eight and my childhood ended the moment the chains were put on my wrists.

I stumbled into Fief Dunstable chained to a line of poor wretches like myself. I had been there for the eight years since and I grew up there. I was tall of stature and the labor had made me tough and strong. I was almost a woman, in both body and spirit.

"Pick up the pace!" Milo, an overseer, stood over my back and tapped his whip on his thigh. I nodded without meeting his eyes and hurried to take the heavy chain off the tree.

The others talked of freedom. I didn't know the meaning of the word. Lord Amrold and his family were free. They didn't do anything, as far as I could tell. His young son Farren rode his pony around, but I'd never seen him work. I'd barely laid eyes on his wife and the younger children, but I was sure they would never work a day in their life. If freedom meant boredom, I'd rather work.

"Adda." Lotta handed me my ax. "You're dreamin'."

"Aye." I nodded and moved to the other side of the tree that she was working on. We were the only women in our crew and she was much older than me, by at least five years.

"What of?" Lotta asked, over the ringing of the axes. "Some lad caught your eye?"

I shook my head. "It's too hot to think 'bout lads."

"Never." Lotta nodded towards Evrett, who had taken off his shirt. His chest gleamed with sweat.

I shrugged. "He's well enough."

"If he's just well enough, then you've got standards." Lotta's eyes traveled over every inch of the man. "I wonder if he'd take me."

I glanced at her and hesitated mid-chop. "You're no whore."

"'Course not." Lotta took her eyes off Evrett. "But there's no law that says I can't bed him. And when you-" She blushed, something I've rarely seen her do.

I frowned, concentrating on my work. Minutes later, I came to a realization. "You really like him!"

Lotta turned an even deeper shade of pink. "Not much! And keep your voice down."

I turned to look at Evrett, seeing him as I hadn't ever bothered to. He was kind enough, but he didn't speak much. He did have a nice look about him and he wasn't too pretty. He'd treat her well, I could guarantee it. I turned back to Lotta. "Well, I approve."

"Didn't need your approval." Lotta grumbled, though she did look a bit relieved.

I was silent after that. Commoners married early, but there was hardly a purpose for us. We'd do what we liked, since we had no reputations to uphold. Our men didn't care how many others we'd bedded and women were scarce enough in the crews for them to be lucky to have us. I'd never bedded a man before, though I knew Lotta had when she'd been my age. I'd never had a lover, either. It seemed like it would be nice, judging from the way Lotta smiled when she thought about her man of the time.

I don't even know who I'd choose, if I could get a lover. Trom was nearest my age, but he wasn't as nice to look at as some of the others and he was shy besides. The rest were just tooold. Maybe there was a man for me in one of the other crews. Unfortunately, the crews rarely mixed so I'd never know.

"Line for count!" Milo ordered.

I set my ax against the tree, dread running through me. I hadn't been too particular about Gorden and never got to know him. Still, I'd never had the desire to see any man punished.

Milo counted us, his lips moving silently. He scowled and recounted us. "Which one of you was it?"

I turned around like I'd no idea that one of us was missing. I looked around for Gorden, knowing that he'd be through the forest by now. I hope he made it to the border and by some chance of fate, the magic to keep him in wasn't working.

Milo scowled deeper, working up a temper. Rolph begrudgingly answered. "Must have been Gorden, sir."

"Gorden." Another overseer clenched his fist. "Figures."

Milo nodded to the overseer. "Get the dogs, then."

I tried to hide my shudder and worriedly stared at the ground.

"Bring your tools." Milo ordered us. "We're going in early."

Usually, I'd have been glad for a shorter day. It happened occasionally, but today it meant a manhunt. It meant a public beating and the eventually killing of Gorden, for they would catch him.

I'd never run. It was stupid. Nobody ever got away.

---

"Adda." Karel shook my shoulder. "They got Gorden."

I rubbed the sleep from my eyes as I sat up on the straw pallet. The shack was sweltering in the summer, not being properly ventilated. The heat was smothering, but I preferred it over the bone-chilling cold. "Oh." I finally answered.

"Come on." Karel grabbed my arm and pulled me up. The tiny shelter was empty except for us. Everyone else had left already.

Stepping outside into the night, the crews mingled as they all walked towards a common destination. I stayed close to Karel and we wove our way to the front of the crowd, where our crew stood. Others grumbled at us, but he was our man, not theirs. We joined our crew and looked up at Gorden.

He stood on a platform, chained to a post. He'd been bitten by the dogs and the crusty blood stuck to his wounds and clothes. He weaved on his feet, exhaustion and pain taking their toll. Lord Amrold and some overseers conversed at the bottom of the platform as soldiers armed with spears stood at the ready, in case the crowd revolted.

An overseer that I didn't recognize climbed to the platform and uncurled his whip. He administered the beating with an expression of boredom. Gorden's body shook as the whip lashed his back, opening the skin in angry red crisscrosses.

Karel set his jaw and bitterly clenched his fists. If he didn't learn to control himself, he would be in Gorden's place in just a couple years.

Gorden finally sagged against his bonds, his body limped. The overseer stopped beating him and checked for a pulse. I hoped he was dead. If he was alive, the torture could go on for hours.

The overseer stepped away from Gorden and left the platform. I guessed he was dead then.

"It ain't fair." Karel hissed, pale with fury. "All he did was try to run. He-"

"Shut your mouth, boy." Josef cut him off swiftly. "You think they'd shy from putting you up there?"

Karel wisely bit his tongue and contented himself with glaring at the dirt under our feet.

"I guess we'll get a new one then." I supposed. Each crew had eighteen men and women in it and we were one down.

"Hope it's another woman." Lejo teased. "Ours are broken."

Lotta smacked him half-heartedly.

The crowd started to disperse. Our crew headed back to our shack. The shack wasn't hardly big enough to fit eighteen men lying side to side, but we packed ourselves in. The ceiling was low, about six feet high. I could walk fine, but Rolph and a couple of the men had to bend over as they walked. Rough pallets covered the dirt floor. The pallets were large enough for two normal-sized people or one Rolph.

Once our crew was all in the shack, the door was bolted and locked. I used the bucket in the corner of the shack, holding my breath at the stink. There was a cover for it, but the stench in the summer was horrible.

I laid down on the pallet next to Lotta. She stared up at the ceiling, her face like stone. I closed my eyes and turned away from her.

---

I woke up at the same time I did every morning, about an hour before sunrise. Our crew moved mechanically, putting on our clothes and whispering to each other. We were ready when the door was opened.

My stomach hurt. Our crew had not been fed last night, since we had let Gorden run. I should be used to it by now, but we ate two meals a day and worked hard. I needed food.

The kitchen crew fed us. Every morning we were served the leftovers of whatever food the nobles had eaten the night before mixed with a sort of tasteless porridge. There were bits of meat sometimes, potatoes, beans, and once I found what resembled a human knuckle. I prayed to the gods for a week after that. Dinner was hardly better, though sometimes we were given bread. The food was served in wooden bowls which were hardly ever washed.

It was something we complained about, but never expected it to change. I wasn't sure if I even wanted it to change. It was just the way it was. I hadn't eaten well before I came here and probably never would, unless I got on kitchen crew.

I quickly finished eating, since we only had a few moments. As I did, Lord Amrold came in with three overseers and his son. I was surprised. I didn't think he woke up before dawn. I was close enough to hear the low tones that they conversed in.

Lord Amrold spoke to his son. "If you still want to go to Corus at the end of the summer, then you shall. Just give this a try."

His son nodded and yawned sleepily. Lord Amrold smiled fondly down at the boy, his hand lovingly clasping the boy's shoulder. So the lioncould purr. I watched curiously.

Lord Amrold turned to his overseers. "Keep an eye on him."

As he turned to go, his son caught his arm. "Thank you, Father."

Lord Amrold ruffled his hair as he left.

Milo stood from the table and banged his hand on the table for our attention. "Lord Farren will be out with us for the next couple weeks. If any of you give him trouble, I'll lay you on the post and beat you half to death."

After last night's display of violence, I certainly wouldn't cause any trouble for weeks. I had no desire to be made an example of. I worked quietly, chopping wood without pausing for any rests.

About noon, Lord Farren approached me uncertainly. He had stayed mostly out of our way, observing the overseers and how they dealt with us. He carried a bundle of papers under his arm, supervising his workers. He looked more like a little boy playacting. "Come with me." He ordered me imperiously.

I set my ax down and followed him, watching Milo out of the corner of my eye, hoping I wasn't doing something wrong. Milo didn't seem to care so I continued to follow Lord Farren.

The towheaded boy laid the papers down on a flat stump, spreading them out. "This is what I need to build."

He seemed to want me to look at it, so I peered over his shoulder. The lines on the paper represented some sort of wooden tower.

"It's a watchtower." Lord Farren explained. "We're going to build it."

Suddenly, I understood. He needed my advice, but couldn't ask it of me because I was beneath him and his pride would suffer. He chose me because I was the youngest, except for Karel, but he had been rather surly as of late and even I would hesitate to ask for his help.

Staring at the ground, hoping he wouldn't hit me with that stupid little whip of his, I made a suggestion. "Where will you build it?"

Lord Farren frowned. "I haven't decided yet. Where would you build it?"

I thought for a moment. "The pasture up the road, your lordship. It's level enough and would have a good view of the north border."

"Precisely." Lord Farren nodded. "These trees need to go up there."

"Have the mage do it, sir." I suggested, hiding a smirk. When he scowled at me, I hastily cleared my throat. "Or we could chop them into the sizes you need for the tower and have the horses drag them up the road."

"Do that then." Lord Farren ordered. When I didn't jump immediately, his scowl deepened. "What is it?"

"I need the sizes, sir." I tried to look humble.

"Right." Lord Farren drew a quill from amidst the parchment.

"Can't read." I told him, before he wrote the numbers down for nothing.

"You can't read?" He gawked at me. I stared levelly back at him until he looked at the ground. "Can you remember them if I tell you?"

"If you have some cord," I suggested. "Cut it to the length you want it."

As Lord Farren cut the cord to the right measurement, I studied him. He was a right little noble brat. His fine hose and velvet tunic were perfectly cut and tailored to him. Every inch of him was scrubbed spotless and his hair looked light and fluffy.

I wore the rough cut breeches and loose tunic that all of us wore. If they were ever washed, they'd probably fall to pieces. My boots were worn and on the verge of falling apart. I needed to bathe and I stunk. No wonder young Lord Farren treated me like I was beneath him. I was.