[Shadowed Path 01] - A Woman Worth Ten Coppers (6 page)

The sun was low in the sky when they came upon a creek. Honus halted and sat upon a rock next to where clear water gurgled among rounded stones. Yim took his action as a sign that she could rest. She removed the pack, drank her fill from the cold stream, and refilled the water skin. Before she could sit down, Honus broke his silence. “Wash your filthy rag and clean yourself also.”

Yim blushed. “Right here?”

“Yes, here. Now be quick about it.” As Yim began to hop from stone to stone, Honus added, “Stay close by.”

The water deepened to form a shallow pool about ten paces from where Honus sat. Yim halted there and glanced to see if her master was looking away. He was not. Feeling as she had upon the slave seller’s block, Yim turned her back to Honus, removed her tunic, and washed it as best she could. Afterward, she wrung it out and placed it on a rock. Having finished with the tunic, she squatted down to clean herself in the calf-deep water. It was icy and she bathed as quickly as possible, scrubbing her goose-pimpled skin with sand until it was rosy pink. All the while, she felt Honus’s eyes on her nakedness. It filled her with dread as she thought of the approaching night. Yim rose from the water and dressed in her tunic before facing Honus. He was gazing at her breasts, which were clearly visible through the wet, clinging fabric.

As Yim returned to the bank, Honus rose to resume their journey. Without a word, Yim hiked the pack upon her wet garment and waited for her master to move on. Honus crossed the stream by leaping from stone to stone, then continued up the lonely road.

Dusk was falling when Honus drew his sword and handed it to Yim. “Carry this and keep walking. There’s something I must do.”

Yim obeyed. She listened for Honus’s footsteps behind her, but there were none. When she turned around, he was gone without a trace, leaving her alone. His action was as terrifying as it was inexplicable. Yim briefly wondered if she was being punished, but she couldn’t imagine her transgression. She clutched the sword, but it provided little comfort on the darkening and desolate road. Thick brush hemmed in the narrow lane, so it resembled a twisting alleyway.
The Seer lost his life and I my freedom in just such a place.

The only thing Yim could do was to keep moving. Her bare feet made no noise, and after a while, she could detect rustling sounds to her rear. “Master?” The sounds stopped. Yim looked behind her. The road was empty. As Yim stood listening, the sun sank below the trees.

Yim started walking again. The sound returned and became louder. This time, she turned to see two dark shapes step onto the lane. In the stillness of the gathering gloom, she could hear men’s low voices.

“Are you crazy? The Sarf!”

“He’s gone. And the fool left his sword behind.”

“He might return.”

“Then we’ll be quick.”

Yim grasped Honus’s sword with both hands and waved it at the two silhouettes. They advanced with the confidence of dangerous men. Soon Yim could see them plainly. They wore heavy leather tunics, sewn with iron plates. Their coarse, scarred faces matched their crude armor. One man held an unsheathed sword; the other brandished an iron-headed mace.

“Throw that thing away, pretty,” said the man with the sword. “You’ll hurt yourself.”

“I’ll hurt
you
,” said Yim, trying to sound confident, “if you come closer.”

The man with the mace snickered and began swinging his weapon with swift, random movements. The studded iron became a blur that whistled through the air. Yim swung wildly with her blade, trying to fend it off. The mace wielder grinned and Yim sensed he was toying with her. Several times, the iron passed so closely to her face, she felt its breeze. With a sudden clank, the sword was jarred from her grasp. Yim’s assailant stepped forward and pinned the blade to the dirt. “Enough of that,” he said. “Now it’s time to really play.” He grinned and, with the end of his mace, began to lift the hem of Yim’s tunic.

Yim heard Honus’s voice. “The girl’s mine.”

The man pivoted, keeping his foot on the sword. “What use has a holy man for a woman?”

“You need only know that she’s mine.”

The man with the mace forced a smile on his face. “Of course,” he said. “It’s not my business.” Then, he turned toward his companion and winked.

A sword flashed, reflecting the last of the sky’s light. It passed through where Honus had stood an instant before. The Sarf rolled on the ground and sprang up so that he and the swordsman were chest-to-chest. At such close quarters, the sword was useless. Honus jabbed with his fist. There was the crunch of gristle, and the swordsman fell backward. Honus caught his opponent’s sword before it hit the ground. Then he whirled, and the mace dropped with a hand still grasping it. A wail arose. It was cut short as Honus whirled again. The second man dropped to the road in two pieces. Honus turned and plunged the sword into the other man gurgling on the ground. There was a grunt, and the gurgling stopped. Honus withdrew the sword and stepped on its blade to snap it. Afterward, he hurled it and the mace into the bushes flanking the road. Then he picked up and sheathed his weapon.

Yim had stood paralyzed throughout the encounter. As she stared at the two dead men, she felt sickened by their violent end. Her stomach churned, and if it weren’t empty, she would have thrown up. For a long while, she trembled as horror fought with relief. Then she subdued her emotions and asked Honus in a shaky voice, “Are we safe now?”

A grim smile came to Honus’s fierce face. “Safe?” He glanced down at the pair of corpses. “These were but fleas. There are wolves abroad. Didn’t you know?”

“No. My home’s far away and isolated.”

“Then you were ill-advised to leave it.” Honus dragged the bodies from the road. “Don’t worry, we’ll be safe enough tonight. Come. We’ll walk until the moon rises. Then you’ll find firewood more easily.”

By the time Yim returned to camp with a second load of wood, Honus had a fire blazing and porridge cooked. He tasted it before passing the pot to Yim. The porridge was burnt, but she ate ravenously. “Don’t eat so quickly,” Honus warned her. “You’ll get sick.” Yim slowed her pace, but she still cleaned the pot with her fingers, licking them noisily. Honus’s teeth showed in the moonlight. “Such royal manners.”

Withdrawn and tense, Yim didn’t react to the jest. After eating, she sat near the dying fire, wrapped in her bloodstained cloak and shivering, though the night was not yet cold.

Honus spread his cloak over leaves and removed his sandals and outer pants. Yim looked away as he began to remove his leggings. “Take off that damp tunic,” she heard him say, “and come to me.”

Yim remained put, but turned to look at Honus. He was reclining on his cloak, his manhood covered by his long shirt. In a voice that trembled slightly, Yim responded. “You’re a Sarf, a holy man.”

“A Sarf is but a holy man’s servant. I’m no purer than other men, probably less.”

“If you had purchased the blond slave, would you have wished to tup him also?”

“No,” said Honus, his voice betraying irritation.

“Then why must I do what he need not?”

“Come. There’s pleasure in this.”

“I’ve already suffered as a bound captive, so don’t speak of pleasure. What pleases the man degrades the woman.”

“This is my right,” replied Honus. “I own you.”

“You own your sword. Would you use it to hew rocks?”

“Stop speaking riddles.”

“Only a fool destroys his possessions.”

Honus sat up and glared at Yim. “Are you calling me a fool?”

“No, Master.” Yim recalled the night with the scar-faced man in the wagon, and when she spoke again there was resolve in her voice. “You can have me by force, but you cannot force me to live. If you tup me, I’ll kill myself. Then, the only burdens I’ll bear will be memories upon the Dark Path.”

“You’re bluffing.”

“Look me in the eye and see truth. I’ve experienced degradation once. I’d rather walk the Dark Path than endure it again.”

Honus stared at Yim for a long time, and she sensed it was no ordinary gaze but one that saw beneath appearances. Yim met his eyes forthrightly and loosened her guard. Thus, though she couldn’t fathom his tattooed face in the moonlight, she felt that she had communicated her determination. Finally, Honus looked away and pulled on his pants. “I’ll not force you,” he said. “I so swear.” Honus made the Sign of the Balance. Then he took off his shirt and tossed it toward Yim. “Replace that damp tunic with this and lie beside me. We’ll share warmth, nothing more.”

Yim felt a wave of relief. She let out a long, shuddering sigh as Honus lay down and rolled on his side to face away from her. After she had put on the shirt and hung her tunic to dry, she noticed Honus’s back was covered with little marks. She hesitantly crept over to his cloak, carrying hers to cover them both. Closer up, Yim saw that the marks were tattooed runes. The writing began at Honus’s shoulders and extended to the small of his back, forming an extensive text. Some of the marks roused Yim’s curiosity. She reached out and lightly touched them. “Your runes are old-fashioned,” she whispered, “but I can make some words out.”

“Don’t!” cried Honus.

Yim jerked her hand away.

“Those runes concern deep matters, portents that only a Sarf’s master should read,” said Honus. “A Sarf may not know them. That’s why they’re needled on his back.”

“Pardon me, Master. I didn’t know.” Yim drew up her cloak. As she pulled it over Honus, she thought of the runes and wondered why some spelled her name.

SEVEN

H
ONUS LAY
awake, looking toward the stars and listening to Yim’s breathing. Asleep, she didn’t shrink from him. Instead, she lay curled on her side, her back and feet pressed against him for warmth.
When was I last this close to a woman?
It felt like ages. Yet Yim’s closeness only heightened his loneliness.
How pathetic, to turn to a slave for…what? Pleasure from a frightened girl? What a shallow, futile thing.
Honus felt ashamed of his weakness.

He also reproached himself for letting Yim glimpse his back. If he had known she could read, he would have never removed his shirt. Honus wondered what signs she had discerned.
It probably doesn’t matter. She wouldn’t understand their import.
Still, he couldn’t forget how Yim had softly brushed his tattoos with her fingers. Honus’s wise and gentle master had touched the runes similarly when he puzzled over them. Honus reflected on the irony that Yim had deciphered words that he, who had borne them since childhood, had seldom seen and never read. All he knew of them was that the inscription was extensive. Occasionally, his master had teased Honus about it, telling of a Sarf whose back bore but a single word. He never revealed what it was.

Honus had often speculated on what his master learned from his back. When he was young, he believed his entire life was inscribed there, exposed to anyone who could make out the letters. Later, he learned that the Seer who tattooed them wrote riddles and hints. “Their meaning is revealed through time,” Honus’s master had said. “Life provides the missing puzzle pieces.” Honus wondered if Yaun or even the slave beside him were pieces to that puzzle, and who would fit those pieces now that the one he revered was dead.

Honus’s master had last touched the runes on the eve before the battle. If he foresaw his death, he didn’t reveal it to Honus. He had only enjoined Honus to never carry his own burden, saying, “The will of Karm is strong in this.” Honus had obeyed that command, and everything that followed had been a consequence.

Honus had no idea why he mustn’t bear his pack.
Perhaps my master knew
. But he was gone, slain by forces that seemed as unstoppable as nightfall.
How can I oppose them, if even he had no answer? Seeking it doomed him.
Honus gazed toward the stars, but saw only the darkness between them.

Yim dreamed she was a girl again and relived the dreariness of her childhood. She was seated on the dirt floor of her guardian’s hut. It was night and a small fire cast the only light. The warm air smelled of wood smoke and herbs. Yim hugged her legs close to her chest and peered over her knees at the Wise Woman. Her guardian stared back sternly. “Are you afraid?” she asked.

“Yes,” said Yim.

“You should be,” the woman replied. “This knowledge is perilous, even for you. You must never speak of it. Never! Is that understood?”

“Yes, Wise One.”

“Then watch and learn.” The woman sat on her heels, folded her hands in her lap, and became absolutely still. Yim scrutinized her guardian’s face in the dim firelight. She appeared to be watching something in the dark, something Yim couldn’t see. The air turned cold, and Yim was astonished to see frost forming on the floor. The white crystals advanced toward Yim’s bare feet. Her toes began to sting.

The dream faded, but the cold remained. Yim awoke alone beneath the cloak in the dim blue light of predawn. The damp air was chilly and Yim drew her legs tighter to her body. They felt stiff; indeed, her whole body ached. Another day of drudgery loomed ahead, and she wasn’t anxious for it to start. The hardships of travel, daunting as they were, seemed less oppressive than the prospect of serving a strange and unpredictable man.
My master,
Yim thought. The very word galled her. She remembered that his former companion had called him “Honus” and resolved to think of him by that name. It would help distance her from the demeaning idea that she was his property.

Nevertheless, Yim was already adjusting to that concept. She lay still to avoid being given a command, even after she began to feel restless. Passivity was an age-old slave’s strategy, and Yim took to it instinctively. She knew retaining her inner freedom would require all her will. She viewed the previous day as a lopsided struggle between her and Honus where she suffered one rout after another. Yet, last night, she had won a major victory. Yim was still amazed by her success. When it happened, she had been steeling herself for suicide. Through that victory, she sensed that Honus needed her. Yim wasn’t sure why, but it seemed to go beyond wanting a woman to lie with.
Otherwise, he wouldn’t have made that oath. Something else is at work here.
She hoped to discover what it was and use that knowledge to her advantage.