PrologueNick Ruger was three the day the slave village tutors brought him to the house of an elder. He stood quietly, eyes cast to the floor, among a group of men and women who, along with strangers who’d come for the day, looked him over. He wasn’t Nick Ruger then, but simply Nick, one of the slave children being raised and trained in this village.
“He doesn’t seem like so much,” one of the strangers said.
Tutor Linn flicked Nick’s shoulder blades with the back of a hand, gave him a hard poke with the ends of his fingers, and shoved Nick forward a few steps. Nick stumbled away from Tutor Linn and into the middle of the room. Despite the late spring day, and even though it was before noon, the heat and humidity were steadily climbing, but Nick shivered. The spot where Tutor Linn’s finger
