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(Page 2 of 2) Trelagor by Carin Marais
(1 rating)
| Heretics and witches - vermin all of them." The captain's face remained passive.
"Must have snuck on – I don't sell tickets to Trelagor. You have my word as an honourable sea captain, Sir." The guard nodded then turned to the crowd gathered before the captain.
"I say again to you, people of Elganorë. His Majesty the King forbids all that are classified as Trelagor to leave the country, on pain of death. Those that are of mixed blood are classified as Trelagor, and they are also forbidden to leave the country. Only the pure of Elganorë may travel, the rest will be dealt with here in a suitable manner." He glared at the crowd, but, being satisfied with his speech, leaves.
Mary turned her eyes to the ground as he passed her, clutching the bag tighter in her hand.
Shuffle...
One less man meant one more space on the ship.
Shuffle...
One more space may be all she needs.
Shuffle...
Mary forced the thought of the man being hanged from her mind as she shuffled to the desk. The captain looked up at her, but she didn't meet his eyes, looking instead at the coins she had placed on the table.
"Do you declare that you are not Trelagor, but are of pure Elganorë?" he repeated the question for the umpteenth time that day, loud enough for the official two steps away to hear.
"I do."
"Do you declare that you are neither heretic, nor witch, nor have any contact with any such persons?"
"I do."
"Then make your mark." He caught her eyes and she froze, knowing that he would have seen the colour of her eyes and know her to be one of the Trelagor. He smiled slightly. "Make your mark, there's many like you still waiting."
With a trembling hand she picked up the feather and drew a cross on the page before turning to board the ship to freedom.
THE END
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