[Shadowed Path 01] - A Woman Worth Ten Coppers (2 page)

“You’ve been singled out,” said the Wise Woman when Yim reached her twelfth winter, “and all your life has been preparation for one task.”

“And what’s that?” asked Yim.

“It’s your duty to bear a child.”

Yim knew better than to laugh, but she had witnessed too many births to see any uniqueness in that. The Wise Woman seemed to read Yim’s thoughts, for she added, “The goddess will choose the father, and you will go to him.”

Since parents arranged marriages, the Wise Woman’s revelation seemed only a twist to the common custom. Yim imagined that she would be matched to some holy man and saw her secret lessons as preparation for her role as his spouse. At twelve, the prospect of marriage didn’t enthuse Yim, and it still didn’t when she grew to womanhood. Having received no love from her stern and taciturn guardian, Yim had little expectation of receiving it from a man. She felt that only the goddess loved her. Karm seemed like the mother for whom Yim had always yearned. It was for the goddess’s sake that Yim acquiesced to her duty.

Yet after her conversation with the Seer, it was starkly apparent that she had embarked on a journey with no concrete destination to find someone unknown to her. It was a distressing prospect, and duty seemed a poor reason for doing something so rash.
I never chose this path,
she thought.
I was raised to follow it without question
. Yet Yim did question what she was doing. She knew she couldn’t go back, but she didn’t have to go forward. Wavering, Yim considered her alternatives.

Women without kin had no standing, which was why she was masquerading as the Seer’s daughter. A lone woman might become a servant, but being in no position to bargain, she’d end up little better than a slave.
At least I’d be safe.
When Yim imagined such a life, she thought it wouldn’t be any harder than her former one. But by choosing it, she would be thinking only of herself, and Yim found that hard to do. She had pined for human contact throughout her lonely childhood and had tasted it only when she began assisting the Wise Woman with healing. Yim’s role had been to comfort the sick or injured through simple acts of caring—preparing a meal, cooling a feverish brow, or holding a trembling hand. She soon discovered that such deeds sustained her as much as they did those she comforted, for compassion created bonds with others.

That compassion made Yim consider the Seer beside her. He had a drawn look, with skin that hung loosely on his stubble-covered face and eyes that possessed the vacant gaze of the weary. Yim surmised that he was unaccustomed to hardship and the road to the highlands had worn him down.
He’s ill suited for this journey, but he undertook it.
In envisioning his disappointment if she abandoned her quest, Yim found a reason to continue it. She could make the Seer’s sacrifice worthwhile by striving to fulfill its purpose. Additionally, she could ease his hardship on the road by gathering wood, tending the horses, and cooking. It was a meager rationale, but since it involved giving comfort, it seemed more compelling than mere duty. In the end, it helped Yim decide to go on.

Having made up her mind, Yim felt she should speak to the Seer and say something that assured him that she appreciated his efforts. As she tried to find the words, he began chanting softly in some archaic tongue that was mostly nonsense to her. Yim waited for him to stop, but he kept at it. Eventually, she tired of waiting and retreated inside the wagon. There, she wrapped herself in a blanket and slept to escape her boredom.

When Yim awoke, she rejoined the Seer. He was still chanting. Yim gazed about and found the countryside unfamiliar. Having entered strange territory made her decision seem irrevocable. Yim’s apprehensions heightened, and she wanted to know what she faced. To that end, Yim studied the chanting man who was taking her onward. She sensed he was hiding things from her.
Just like my guardian,
she thought. But Yim had the skill to see beneath surfaces and discerned that the Seer had some inkling of what lay ahead. Underneath his calm exterior, she glimpsed fear.

TWO

D
ESPITE
Y
IM’S
misgivings, the journey was easy at first. Her apprehensions eased as the horses pulled the wagon at a steady pace over the frozen road and the novelty of travel replaced her dreary life in the Wise Woman’s hut. Whenever she gazed northward toward her former home, she saw the Cloud Mountains that rose high above it. Even when she could no longer see the highlands, the mountains stood out, white with snow against a gray sky.

The Seer continued heading southward through a rolling plain that was often wooded but seldom cultivated. Yim knew nothing about this country until the Seer told her a little of its history. The sparsely settled lands south of the highlands were called the Northern Reach. In former times, they comprised the northernmost extent of the Empire. Farther south were realms that still belonged to the Empire, but in name only. The emperor’s authority had so faded that folk looked elsewhere for strength. They found it in warlords, petty nobles, their kin, or not at all, depending on where they lived. The Seer recited the names of realms and towns—the duchies of Lurwic, Walstur, and Basthem; the province of Argenor; the towns of Larresh, Kambul, and Durkin; the county of Falsten; the Eastern and Western Reaches; the empty province of Luvein; and others—until Yim learned them. Still, they remained only names to her with no sense of place about them.

Yim fell into her role of a peddler’s daughter, and as such she made the Seer’s journey easier. He drove the wagon, but she did nearly everything else. After she learned how to hitch up the horses, that became her job as well as caring for them. Yim gathered wood for the campfire, lit it, and cooked upon its flames. On the few occasions when strangers approached them, she usually did the talking. This role became hers by default, for the Seer was a reticent man, while she had a knack for fabricating stories.

The Seer proved an odd traveling companion. He was unworldly for a man of over fifty winters, but he knew how to handle a team and wagon. He wouldn’t reveal his name, insisting that “Father” sufficed. He spoke little and spent much of his time chanting so softly that Yim couldn’t make out his words. Usually the chants sounded like a quiet drone, which Yim found easy to ignore. But when they took on a fervent, pleading tone, she found them troubling. Yim seldom spoke to anyone other than the Seer, for he chose those roads that avoided settlements. He claimed he did this because what wares he had were purely for display and a peddler who turned away customers would arouse suspicion.

The items dangling from the wagon’s eaves and the ribbons stitched on Yim’s cloak were the only “wares” they carried. The wagon’s interior was piled with provisions for a long journey. There were sacks containing oats for the horses and grain to make porridge. A large barrel held salt mutton. Additionally, there were several crates of brandy. Yim and the Seer slept wedged between those supplies within the wagon. It made for cramped quarters, and Yim looked forward to warmer weather, when she could sleep outdoors.

Yim never touched the brandy, but she made good use of it. Like a dutiful daughter, she brought a bowl of it for the Seer to drink while she gathered wood and prepared the evening meal. She also refilled his bowl throughout the evening. Drink cheered the Seer up. Moreover, it loosened his tongue so that he sometimes answered Yim’s questions. Over successive evenings, she teased out bits of information. She learned that the Wise Woman had corresponded with the temple for years; that visions were extremely rare and it was rarer still to have more than one; that the worship of Karm had been on a long decline; that the new emperor had forsaken the goddess; and that war raged in the west.

By the twelfth day of the journey, the Cloud Mountains were no longer visible on the horizon and damp winds blew from the south. They whipped about the ribbons on Yim’s cloak so vigorously that she shed it and wrapped herself with a blanket. By evening, Yim was thoroughly chilled, and she gathered extra wood for a large fire. The Seer gulped his brandy to warm himself, and was glassy-eyed even before Yim started cooking.

As Yim prepared dinner, she noticed the Seer’s bleary gaze and began posing questions. “What’s Karm’s temple like?”

“What did the Wise Woman tell you?”

“That it’s far away. That Seers and Sarfs and other holy folk train there. That Karm used to have other temples, but now it’s the only one.”

“That’s all?”

“Yes.”

“Then that’s all you should know,” said the Seer, taking another gulp of brandy.

Though the porridge was done, Yim kept on stirring it and watching the Seer drink. After she refilled his bowl a second time, she said, “So I’m to know nothing about the temple, while those at the temple know everything about me.”

“Not so,” mumbled the Seer. “Only Seers know of you, and only a few of them.”

“So you’re one of the select?” asked Yim, making sure that she sounded impressed.

The Seer puffed up a bit. “I am. I’ve known of you since I was trained.”

“And when was that?”

“Over forty winters ago.”

Before I was born!
thought Yim. When she spoke again, she had to struggle to keep her voice even. “And who told you?”

“My master. He learned it from his master. It’s an old secret.”

“How old?”

The Seer shrugged. “Old.”

Yim felt stunned, and when she ladled out the porridge, her hand shook. The Seer didn’t notice, being more than a little drunk. While he wolfed down his food, Yim served herself. Despite her empty belly, the Seer’s revelation so occupied her thoughts that her porridge was cold before she tasted it. Nothing had changed, but Yim saw her situation in an entirely different light. It was as if she had been blithely walking down a narrow path at night when a lightning flash revealed abysses on either side. Every step thereafter felt different. While her new knowledge couldn’t aid her, it made Yim feel burdened by fate and the expectations of strangers. She understood at last why the Wise Woman had been so closemouthed. Yim wished with all her heart that the Seer had been the same.

The next morning, Yim warmed leftover porridge for herself and the Seer, then hitched up the horses after cleaning the pot. The sky was clear for the first time since she left the highlands, and a mild breeze was melting the last patches of snow. But this first taste of spring did little to ease Yim’s brooding.
I’m only an ant on a leaf in a river.
She felt helpless and ignorant. All she could hope for was that Karm would send her a vision that would make sense of things. Riding down the thawing road, she silently prayed for one.

In the late afternoon, the road took them through a tiny village. They were nearly past it when a man called out. “Hey, birdie, how much are your ribbons?”

“A copper apiece,” Yim called back. It was a price that discouraged buyers.

“That’s dear,” said the man as he ambled toward the wagon. His weather-beaten face had a prominent scar running down one cheek, and a long dagger hung from his leather jerkin. He grinned. “Sure they’re worth it?”

“Finest in the Empire,” replied Yim.

“Well, hop down and let me take a look.”

The Seer reined the wagon to a halt, and Yim climbed down to the muddy road. There, the man glanced at the ribbons tacked to Yim’s cloak, but he seemed mostly to gaze at her. His look made Yim uneasy. After a while, he grabbed a wide red-and-yellow ribbon tacked near Yim’s collar. “My woman would fancy this one.”

“Let go, and I’ll have my father remove it.”

“No need,” said the man. He drew his dagger, and passing its blade close to Yim’s throat, cut the ribbon, leaving its stub still stitched to Yim’s cloak. Then he sheathed the blade, opened the purse that dangled from his belt, and took out a single coin. “Here’s yer copper.”

Yim palmed it and quickly climbed back on the wagon.

“Where ye headed, old man?”

“South,” replied the Seer.

“Then ye should know the road’s washed out nigh here. Ye’ll need to take another way.”

“What way is that?” asked the Seer.

“After ye reach the woods, there’s a lane that forks left. There’s only one, so ye can’t miss it. ’Tis tight, but a wagon can pass. It heads east, afore turning south and west to join the road beyond the washout.”

The Seer nodded his head. “Thank you for that advice.” Then he shook the reins, and the team headed out. After passing a series of fields, the travelers entered the woods and reached the fork. Yim peered down the narrow lane as the Seer guided the team toward it. “This way looks little used,” she said.

“The ground’s newly thawed,” replied the Seer. “That explains the lack of wheel marks.”

“I didn’t trust that man. Nor his advice.”

“His face was unsightly, but he dealt with you honestly. Don’t be swayed by appearances,” said the Seer. Still, he briefly hesitated before he shook the reins to make the horses advance. “It’ll be dark soon. We’ll want to be through this wood by then.”

The dirt lane seemed little more than a footpath, and trees grew so close to it that the Seer had to take care not to wedge the wagon between them. The way was also muddy, and Yim often had to climb down and push the wagon while the Seer urged the horses forward. She kept expecting the lane to turn, but it continued running straight and eastward. It wasn’t until dusk approached that Yim could see where the woods ended in the distance and the lane entered a grassy field. Yet until they reached that open space, the way was so hemmed by thick, tangled brush that it resembled a tunnel. In the fading light, it was nearly as dark as one.

Neither the Seer nor Yim saw the tree until they were quite close to it. Its trunk was no thicker than a man’s arm, but it spanned the lane at waist height, effectively blocking the horses. The Seer drove the horses on, halting them just before they reached the barrier. Then he climbed down to examine it.

From her perch on the wagon’s seat, Yim watched the Seer walk toward the tree. As he did, she spied movement in the brush and saw three dark shapes pushing through it. The shapes resolved into cloaked and hooded men. “Grab the trunk, old man,” said one. “We’ll help ye heave it.”