[Shadowed Path 01] - A Woman Worth Ten Coppers (23 page)

“I don’t,” said Yim. As she looked at her long-anticipated meal, her eyes welled with tears. Listlessly, she picked up the blue lump and crumbled it, hoping to find a small bit that still tasted like cheese.

TWENTY-FIVE

Y
IM WAS
still picking at the moldy cheese when a man with a military bearing entered the common room from the private dining hall. When he spotted Honus, his face showed surprise, then delight. “Honus?” he yelled over the din. “Can it be you?”

Honus turned at the sound of his name. “It is.”

The man bounded across the room, knocking aside several people in the process. He gave Honus a bear hug as he rose to greet him. “Karmamatus, this is a happy chance.”

Honus’s grim expression softened and broke into a smile. “It’s good to see you, General.”

“It’s just Cronin, now. Back to the highlands for me. I’ve had my fill of the emperor’s court. Where’s Theodus?”

“Slain.”

Cronin’s face fell. “Slain? This is ill news indeed. When did this happen?
How
did it happen? Who’s your Bearer now? Have you dined yet?”

“I see you still need to know everything at once,” said Honus. “The story of Theodus is a weighty matter and not quickly answered. I have no Bearer, but Yim carries my pack.” He gestured toward Yim, who shyly bowed her head. Then Honus waved his hand at the stale crusts, moldy cheese, and sour ale. “And this is our dinner.”

Cronin regarded the meal and his face went red. “YUV!” he bellowed, emphasizing his shout by hurtling the ale mug against the wall. By the time the innkeeper emerged from the kitchen, Cronin had drawn his sword and the inn’s patrons were scrambling out of his way. “Yuv, you cheap, insolent swine! You’re a fool to take a Sarf’s humility as license for disrespect. Well,
I’m
na humble!” Cronin swung his sword and split a bench. “You dishonor Karm with this slop!” He threw the moldy cheese at Yuv, hitting him in the belly.

By then, Cronin’s comrades had spilled out of the private dining hall. All of them were military men, and hardened veterans by their looks. They seemed to be waiting for a signal to tear the place apart.

Yuv cowered and answered in a quaking voice. “Most honorable sire! Please! There’s been a dreadful mistake! I said only the finest for the Sarf and his lady. The waiter must have cheated both him and me. I’ll have him whipped and a proper dinner brought at once.” He bowed low to Honus. “I humbly beg yer pardon, Karmamatus.”

“Bring their meal to the dining hall,” said Cronin to Yuv. “They’ll dine with us. And bring another round of ale.”

“It’ll be on the house, sire,” said Yuv, bowing again before hurrying off.

Cronin grinned broadly, but Honus looked displeased. “Cronin…”

“I know, I know. It takes a strong man to bear an insult. I simply lack your strength, old friend. Besides, there’s a lady involved.” Cronin bowed politely to Yim, who was disconcerted by his notice.

With the excitement over, the common room’s patrons began to settle at their tables, and Cronin’s comrades returned to the dining hall. Cronin led Honus and Yim to the head table, where space was made for them. As they entered, waiters arrived with mugs of ale. Cronin seized one and held it high. “Comrades, a toast! To the man who fought beside me against horse raiders in the Eastern Reach…the witchriders in Argenor…and the warlord of Kambul. To the man who saved my life, na once, but twice. To a faithful servant of the goddess who also happens to be the bravest—and the most modest—man in Vinden. To Honus!”

“To Honus!” shouted the men.

Honus politely acknowledged the toast, but didn’t seem to relish the acclaim. Waiters soon brought Honus and Yim a meal that was as ample and delicious as the first one was stingy and unpalatable. It consisted of a rich stew of spiced lamb and vegetables, a hot loaf of bread, three kinds of cheese, pickled onions and beets, dried fruit, and more ale. Yim’s eyes shone at the bounty. She waited for Honus to take the first bite, then ate with abandon.

As the waiter served the final dish, Cronin said to him, “Bring your master here.”

Soon, Yuv timidly entered the dining hall. “Friend Yuv,” said Cronin, “I’m glad you discovered that waiter’s misdeed. Now we witness your true generosity. I’m certain the room you’ve set aside for the Sarf and his lady is as fine as their dinner.”

“It…It is, sire. They’re making it ready as we speak.”

“There’ll be a tub and hot water, of course.”

“Naturally, sire.”

Cronin took two coppers from his purse and slapped them on the table. “Here’s recompense for your bench. I seemed to have misjudged your piety.”

Yuv tried to hide his chagrin as he bowed. “Thank you, sire.”

“Send a man to take the Sarf’s pack to his room.”

“Right away, sire.”

Cronin dismissed him with a wave of his hand.

As Yuv retreated, Cronin muttered to Honus, “He’d better kiss my arse. I have two dozen officers staying here and six hundred troops bivouacked outside.”

“The goddess isn’t honored by coerced charity,” said Honus.

“No,” admitted Cronin, “but you are. That was my purpose. And your woman deserves a decent meal, even if you’re content with Yuv’s garbage.”

Honus smiled at the sight of Yim relishing some cheese. “Yes, she does.”

“I’ve many questions, old friend,” said Cronin, “and news for you as well. Much has happened since you and Theodus left. Your reception at the Bridge Inn foreshadows the mood in Bremven. There’s a new emperor now.”

“What happened to Theric?”

“A prudent man would say he took ill.”

“And you?”

“I grow less prudent the farther I’m from Bremven. I see his brother’s hand in his demise.”

“Morvus? That coward?”

“Lord Bahl seems to have lent him a spine.”

“I see,” said Honus. “At what price, I wonder.”

“One, I suspect, that shall be more than Morvus will gladly pay. There’s a temple to the Devourer in Bremven now. It’s already sown much discord.”

“I fear Roric was one of its victims,” said Honus.

“He was, and countless others. There’s madness abroad, and I’m sick of it. I’m going to where folk still respect the Balance.”

“I think your ill tidings and mine are pieces of the same cloth. Lord Bahl figures large in both. We should talk privately.”

“Yes,” said Cronin, “we’ll find a place with fewer ears. Then there’ll be time enough for grim talk. I’d be a poor host if I did na permit you to enjoy your meal. Moreover, Theodus never approved of wasting food or drink.”

“No,” said Honus with sadness in his voice, “he did not.” He raised his mug to Cronin’s. “To Theodus.”

At first, Yim had been too engrossed in her food to pay much attention to Honus and Cronin. Yet as her hunger was satisfied, she began to take interest in the man who had so dramatically changed her evening. He appeared slightly younger than Honus, and while it seemed unusual for a man his age to be a general, Cronin fit the part. He had the commanding presence of a natural leader—self-assured, yet not aloof. It was evident that all the men in the room both respected and liked him. He seemed volatile but trustworthy.

Cronin’s appearance perfectly reflected his profession. He had a broad chest and muscular arms. His wide face was dominated by lively blue eyes and a quick smile. Brownish blond hair, cropped at the shoulders, framed his tanned complexion, which was marked with a jagged scar. His clothes were cut in the military style—simple, yet finely made. He wore a leather tunic over a short-sleeved shirt and his baggy pants were tucked into calf-high boots.

Yim tried to follow Cronin and Honus’s conversation. They were reminiscing about Theodus. Honus alternated between laughter and melancholy as he recounted a long story about his Bearer and an overly proud count. As interested as Yim was in the tale, the din of the room, her fatigue, and the strong ale got the best of her. Before long, her head slumped to the table.

When Cronin noticed that Yim was asleep, he took the opportunity to satisfy his curiosity. Whispering to Honus, he asked, “Who is she?”

“A slave.”

“A slave? I’ve never heard of a Sarf with a slave before.”

“When Theodus last read my runes, he said I should never carry my own burden.”

“Any of my men would have gladly done so.”

“I was in a battle where only one other man survived.”

“Was that the same battle where Theodus was slain?” asked Cronin.

“Yes. The survivor was a count’s son. At first, he was eager to serve me. Yet he proved unworthy of the task.”

“And this slave is?”

“Until I reach the temple, yes.”

“Well, I’ll say this—she’s a pretty thing,” said Cronin. “Though I’m sure you’ve noticed.”

When Honus simply grunted, Cronin grinned. “Now that we’ve agreed on that, what else can you tell me?”

“I bought her in Durkin. She’s a peddler’s daughter from the Cloud Mountains.”

“The Cloud Mountains! That’s far away. How did she end up in Durkin?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t ask.”

“Do na give me that, Honus. I know your power to look into eyes and lay bare secrets. I’ve seen you do it. By now, you understand everything about her.”

Honus shook his head. “I don’t. In fact, she’s a mystery.”

“Yet she journeys with you on a perilous road, a girl na older than my little sister.” Cronin pulled out a small leather purse and placed it on the table. “Use this to buy her sandals and some proper clothes. Slave or na, you should na treat her like a Sarf. She took na vows of poverty.”

Honus looked at the purse without touching it.

“She’s a
woman,
Honus. Those rags shame her. She bears your burden, as did Theodus. Allow me to honor his memory with this gift.”

Honus took the purse. “You’re right, old friend. She deserves better. She’s already suffered much on my account.”

“And if you’re going to Bremven,” said Cronin, “she’s likely to suffer more.”

TWENTY-SIX

O
NE OF
Cronin’s officers gently woke Yim and escorted her to Honus’s room. It was in the oldest section of the inn and featured paneled walls, a small fireplace, and glazed windows. In the dim candlelight, it looked elegant. There were two beds, a larger one for a master or mistress and a trundle bed for his or her servant. Both had reasonably clean linens. There was no fire in the fireplace, but as soon as Yim arrived, servants lit one and brought in a copper tub and ewers of hot water. When the tub was filled and the water sprinkled with dried flower petals, they left.

Yim bathed, then washed her tunic. She hung it up to dry and climbed between the sheets of the servant’s bed. The lumpy mattress seemed the height of luxury after sleeping on the ground. She fell asleep almost instantly and woke only briefly when Honus entered the room. By then, only embers glowed in the fireplace, and the candle had burned out. She closed her eyes again, and drifted off to sleep as Honus quietly bathed in the cold bath.

Day’s first light was shining through the window when a knock woke both Honus and Yim. Honus rose and threw Yim her tunic, then dressed. He opened the door to find a young, blond woman who shared Cronin’s good-natured features. “Cara!” he said gladly. “It’s good to see you again. How are you?”

Cara formed her face into an imitation frown. “I’m sad, Honus, for my brother has lost his mind.”

Honus’s lips betrayed a hint of a smile. “Why do you say that?”

“I hear he gave you a purse to purchase clothing for a woman.”

“And you deem me unworthy for such a task?”

“Entirely,” said Cara, as she held out her palm. “Hand it over.”

Honus grinned and brought Cara the purse. She took it and slipped it into the pocket of her short robe. “I’ll get Yim outfitted while you and brother waste the day gabbing. Are you hungry, Yim?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“For Karm’s sake, call me Cara. The last thing I need is more formality. Come on, let’s eat.”

With Honus’s leave, Yim followed Cara down to the common room, where a waiter brought them porridge. “Zounds,” said Cara, “we’ve been here three weeks outfitting for the trip to Averen. Do you know what that’s like? Me being the general’s sister?”

“I thought Cronin said he’s no longer a general,” said Yim.

“Oh, that’s what he
says,
but it makes na difference. As soon as we’re back in Averen…” Cara stopped herself, realizing she was being indiscreet. “Anyway, I have na one to talk to who does na treat me like some…some…I do na know…like some glass flower. Everybody’s
far
too polite. Like, if they said something wrong, I’d break. Or more like it, Cronin would break them. He’s so protective. But you’ve been with
Honus
! Zounds, I had such a crush on him. Na that it made the slightest difference. I could have been his baby sister for all he noticed. So, what’s it like?”

“He’s my master,” said Yim.

“I still can na believe Honus has a
slave
! Does he…you know…”

Yim blushed. “Does he what?”

“All the masters in Bremven sleep with their slaves. I mean, if they’re young and pretty. Why, even if they’re plain and old! But maybe I should na ask…”

“You shouldn’t. Honus is a private man.”

Cara grinned excitedly. “I knew it! When I heard that he drew a sword for your honor, and you a slave…”

“He didn’t draw a sword.”

“Well, almost the same thing. Honus never loses his temper. Believe me, I know. But when he threatened Yuv because he insulted you…well…then it was clear to me and I
knew
.”

Yim turned bright red. “Cara!” she whispered. “Knew
what
? Do you think we’re…we’re…”

Cara beamed. “Lovers!” she said. “It’s
so
romantic!”

“It’s not like that at all,” said Yim in shocked tones. “I carry his pack and cook for him, nothing more.”

“That’s
it
?” said Cara, her face falling. “That does na sound like fun.”

“It’s not.”

Cronin and Honus strode along the empty bridge after breakfast, but each seemed loath to bring up what weighed most on his mind. They stopped midspan and quietly gazed at the river and distant mountains before Cronin said at last, “Tell me the manner of Theodus’s death.”