[Shadowed Path 01] - A Woman Worth Ten Coppers (26 page)

“He lusts for me, that’s all. And I don’t lust for him, much less love him.”

“Look…All this stuff about undoing evil and visions and the goddess is way over my head. But I
do
know a thing or two about men, and I’ve known Honus for years. He
is
kind. He’s principled, too. I think it’s more than lust. You could do a lot worse. Think about it, and you might change your mind. Take time to decide what you want.”

“What difference does it make what I want?” said Yim. “My life has always been in others’ hands. The Wise Woman said it’s Karm’s will.”

“
You
have a will also,” said Cara. “What do
you
desire?”

“I don’t know. It seems pointless to even think about it.”

“Maybe you should. When all this is over, Karm may grant you whatever you wish.”

A faint look of hope came to Yim’s face. “Perhaps.”

“Think about Honus, too. Of all the possible masters, you ended up with him. Perhaps that was the goddess’s doing. There could be a point to this.”

Yim’s hopeful look departed. “I’m sure there’s a purpose for everything that’s happened, just as there was a purpose for what happened to Theodus and Cynetha. Yet, who benefited from their fates? Certainly not them. I’d be foolish to believe the goddess cares about my happiness. She’s concerned with greater things.”

“Then why obey her?” said Cara. “You need only climb into Honus’s bed to thwart Karm. Honus will do the rest.”

“Thwart Karm? I couldn’t do that!”

“You said yourself that you thought about it.”

“I was in shock. It was only a passing weakness. I love Karm.”

“
Love
Karm? After what she’s done to you?” retorted Cara. “Sure, I’d probably obey her, too. If she tapped me on the shoulder, I’d most likely jump out of my robe and kiss her feet. But I do na think I’d love her for it.”

“She’s all I have,” said Yim. “All I’ve ever had.”

“You have a man who loves you.”

“It doesn’t matter, even if it were true.” Yim threw a stick into the river and watched it swirl as it was swept away. “I’m like that stick, Cara. Can it thwart the current? I’m the Chosen.”

TWENTY-EIGHT

C
OUNT
Y
AUN
woke without regrets, though his head throbbed. He had been overly merry at his father’s funeral, where his false lamentation had given way to giggles once the drink took hold. Most of the guests had been too wise to comment. Yaun took care to remember those who had. He was still abed when Nug timorously entered the room and pulled the curtains. Afternoon light flooded the chamber. Squinting, Yaun scowled at the elderly servant. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Sire, there’s a troop on the road.”

“A troop? What manner of troop?”

“Men in black robes and soldiers, too. Some on horse and some afoot.”

“Shit! Father just buried, and Gorm already here!”

“Who, sire?”

“None of your business.”

“Yes, sire.”

“A troop! Shit! He said nothing about a troop.”

Nug stood silent, unsure of what to do. Yaun rose and pushed him roughly. “Don’t stand there! I need clothes. Clothes befitting a count.”

“I’ll check your father’s wardrobe, sire.”

“Check my brother’s, too. Now, hurry!”

Yaun nervously paced the room, pausing occasionally to peer out the window. In the distance, a large column of mounted and marching men slowly advanced up the road. The black robes of the Devourer’s priests contrasted with the dull shine of the soldiers’ armor. Yaun tried to count the armed men, but they were too numerous. “Shit!” he said again.

Nug and two other servants returned with armloads of clothes, which they hurriedly laid out on the bed. Yaun inspected them and frowned at their simplicity. He selected the most expensive-looking garments, ignoring their clashing styles and colors, and ordered his servants to dress him. When they were done, he said to Nug, “I’m going to the great hall. Bring me meat and wine there.”

“And when the visitors arrive, sire?”

“Admit the priest called the Most Holy Gorm. Bid the others wait outside.”

“Yes, sire,” said Nug. He bowed low and departed.

Yaun was on his second bottle of wine when the doors to the great hall were flung open and Gorm strode in unannounced. Following behind him was the entire company that Yaun had spied upon the road. They entered with strict discipline. The only sounds were tramping feet and the clink of mail and weapons. Once the hall was filled to near overflowing, the noises dwindled to an unnerving silence as the soldiers and priests stood perfectly still.

The Most Holy Gorm stood in front of this intimidating assemblage. For a while, he remained as still and silent as the throng behind him. Once he assumed that the proper impression had been made, he bowed low to the quaking figure on the dais. “
Count
Yaun,” said Gorm with just a hint of mockery, “I regret I’m late for your father and brother’s funerals.”

“I think you’re early instead. I didn’t expect you yet.”

“You can never predict Lord Bahl. It’s pointless and
most
unwise.”

Yaun grew pale and nodded.

“You’re a count now,” said Gorm loudly. “You need men-at-arms to enforce your commands.”

“These are
my
soldiers?” asked Yaun.

“For a while,” replied Gorm.

The reply did nothing to lessen Yaun’s uneasiness. “And the priests, too?” he asked.

“Your people must be shown the true path. These holy men are here to guide them.”

“I…I don’t deserve such kindness.”

A sardonic smile formed on the face of the Most Holy One. “Kindness? These men aren’t here out of kindness. They’re here out of necessity. You have obligations.”

“Obligations?”

“I hope you haven’t forgotten Lurwic. Are you not Lord Bahl’s servant?”

“Of course,” said Yaun meekly.

“Then you will bring an army to Averen. Later, I’ll speak more fully of your lord’s requirements.” Gorm approached Yaun close enough to speak in a low voice. “You’re a count now. These men—soldiers and priests alike—will bend the people to your will. And those that won’t bend, they’ll break. Use them and learn the thrill of power.”

Gorm made a signal. A soldier stepped forward and raised his arm in salute. “Count Yaun,” he said in a loud voice. “While marching to your manor, we discovered a traitor. This treasonous landholder named you murderer.” The ranks in the hall parted, allowing four soldiers to bring forward a young man and woman.

Gorm whispered to Yaun. “This one has a fair estate
and
a fair wife. Didn’t she spurn you once?”

Yaun was wondering how Gorm had discovered that information when the soldiers halted. The man they brought before Yaun was well dressed, though a bloodstain marred his shirt. He spoke with difficulty through split and swollen lips. “Yaun, we know each other! What’s the cause for this?”

“It’s
Count
Yaun now. If you know me, Jon, how could you call me murderer?”

“I merely remarked that your father’s corpse looked similar to your brother’s. Someone has twisted my meaning.”

Yaun barely seemed to listen. His attention was on Jon’s wife, Becca. She was a lithe, fair-featured woman with cascades of curly, strawberry hair that reached her waist. Her soft gray eyes were wide with fright. Yaun found her fear so arousing that Gorm had to nudge him to return his attention to her husband.

“So,” said Yaun, “you think I’m a murderer.” He pointed to a pair of soldiers. “Seize hold of his arms!” He pointed to a third soldier. “Tear open his shirt and expose his belly!” When this was done, Yaun drew his dagger and approached the helpless man. “Do you know how Alaric died?”

Jon looked puzzled. “Who’s Alaric?”

Yaun ignored Jon’s question. “Well, they gutted him. Ever wonder how that feels?” He touched Jon’s stomach with the point of the dagger. “Be still, here’s a surprise.” He moved the blade across Jon’s abdomen, making a thin red line. To his disappointment, Jon didn’t cry out. He barely flinched.

Yaun stood in flustered silence for a moment, before recalling what to say next. “So now you’ve paid me and got a gift in…” Yaun halted as Jon’s flesh turned gray around the cut.
Shit!
thought Yaun.
The blade’s still poisoned!

Jon gasped and doubled over as his muscles cramped. Falling to the floor, he managed to speak before the poison silenced him. “In this, you treat me like a brother.”

Becca screamed and ran weeping to her dying husband. She held him as he twisted into something gray and rigid. Kissing his swollen lips, she inhaled his last breath.

Gorm watched the grief-stricken woman dispassionately. Then he whispered to Yaun, “When you kill a dog, you must see to his bitch as well.”

A gleam came to Yaun’s eyes. “Seize the woman!”

Two soldiers struggled to haul Becca away from her husband, succeeding only after she had bloodied their faces with her nails. Her struggles increased Yaun’s excitement, but he didn’t approach Becca until her hands were bound and she grew subdued.

“So, Becca, you made two mistakes. You spurned a count, and you married a traitor.”

“You weren’t a count when you tried to kiss me last. Now, you are.” Becca pursed her lips and lifted her chin. Yaun grinned and moved to take the offered kiss. When he drew close, Becca spit in his face.

Yaun slapped her hard. He drew his dagger, but stopped himself when he saw the triumph in Becca’s eyes. Realizing her ploy, Yaun sheathed his weapon and spoke to the soldiers grasping Becca’s arms. “Lock her in the north tower. The servants can show you where it is. Then bring the key to me.”

“Yes, sire,” said the soldiers as they moved to obey.

“And one more thing,” said Yaun, his eyes on Becca. “Before you lock her up, strip her naked.” He found her look of horror and revulsion satisfying. It made him think of the greater satisfactions to come. Yet, as Becca was taken away, she assumed a dignity that diminished his pleasure.

Yaun regarded the twisted corpse on the floor. “Cut off his head and display it where she can see it from the tower window.”

Gorm nodded with approval. “Your sternness will be a lesson to your people. It’s good to be feared.”

Yaun recalled Becca’s look of horror and savored the memory. “Yes,” he said in a distant voice. “It’s very good indeed.”

The officers’ dinner at the Bridge Inn was subdued. Late in the afternoon, Cronin had briefed his staff on the substance of his and Honus’s discussions. Thus the news was out that the journey to Averen wouldn’t be a homecoming but the beginning of a desperate defense. Though younger soldiers might have been eager for battle, all the men on Cronin’s staff had seen combat in the Eastern Reach and many had fought with him in earlier campaigns. As seasoned veterans, they had few illusions about what lay ahead, and their mood that evening reflected their knowledge. Honus preferred the solemn atmosphere, for it matched his own musings.

Throughout the meal, Yim and Cara talked together at a far table. Though Honus had long given up trying to perceive Yim’s thoughts, he watched her closely, trying to read her expression as an ordinary man might. She seemed sad, but she often seemed sad. Cara caught Honus gazing at Yim and whispered something to her. Honus quickly averted his eyes. When he glanced again toward Yim, Cara was watching and gave him a knowing look.

In a low voice, Honus said to Cronin, “I’m beginning to see why you banned your sister from the table.”

Cronin chuckled. “Does she make you uneasy?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Then ask Cara,” said Cronin. “She misses little. If she were a man, she’d make an excellent adjutant.”

Honus grunted by way of an answer, which made Cronin grin. “You would na be the first man who fell in love with his slave.”

“Is that what Cara told you?”

“She’s na the only one with eyes. It’s been a long time since Cynetha died.”

“Your sister’s a romantic. It seems to run in the family,” said Honus. “Though it may disappoint you both, I’m giving Yim to the temple.”

“The temple is na the haven it once was,” said Cronin. “You may na be doing her a favor.”

“I’m mindful of what you said today, but the temple’s protected by the goddess. How can it not be safe?”

“I’m a soldier, na a Seer,” said Cronin. “Yet it seems to me that more than men are contending in these struggles. There are two temples in Bremven now, that of Karm and that of the Devourer. I fear even Karm’s sanctuary may be in peril.”

“That’s all the more reason for me to go there.”

“So I can na persuade you to linger?”

“No. I’m resolved to leave tomorrow. I must find a Bearer.”

“When you do, may Karm send you our way.”

When the meal was finished, Cronin and his officers stayed to drink more ale. Honus abstained, and departed soon after Yim. When he entered his room, he found Yim already in her bed, wearing her old tunic as a nightgown.

“Did you have a pleasant time with Cara?”

“She’s good company, but the future weighs heavily on her. She’s worried about the approaching war.”

“War’s her brother’s concern. I would’ve hoped a woman’s thoughts would dwell on gentler things.”

“If Bahl takes Averen, Cara feels a soldier’s lot will be easier than a woman’s.”

Honus sighed. “I wish such talk hadn’t darkened your day. It would ease my heart if you were content.” Honus prepared for bed and blew out the candle. When he climbed between his sheets, he said, “Come lie beside me.”

“Why? The room’s warm enough.”

“Do you think I’d violate my oath?”

“No.”

“Then why do you sound uneasy?”

“I cannot say.”

“Can not or will not?”

“That’s an unfair question. Must I bare my thoughts to you?”

“When have you ever done that?”

“What do you want of me?” asked Yim, adding as an afterthought the word “Master.”

Honus shrank from putting his feelings into words. Instead, he replied, “I’ll pose your own question—what do you want of me?”

“To be left alone.”

“I ask but this little thing,” said Honus quietly. Then, he hardened his voice to hide his longing. “It’s my right. Come.”