[Shadowed Path 01] - A Woman Worth Ten Coppers (7 page)

Birds commenced their morning songs, but Yim remained beneath the cloak. She assumed that Honus was close by, despite hearing no indication of his presence.
Is he toying with me?
Yim grew restless and her thoughts turned toward a fire and hot food. Finally, Yim’s hunger and chill drove her to pull off the cloak.

Yim looked about. Honus sat only a pace away. His perfect stillness and the markings on his face gave him the aspect of a malevolent statue. Yim jerked back with a small, startled cry. Honus, his eyes closed, didn’t react. Regaining her composure, Yim regarded her master. He was dressed in his leggings and pants and wore her tunic like a cloak to cover the runes on his back. She would have requested its return, but he seemed beyond reach. His stillness reminded Yim of yesterday, when they rested by the tree. Then, he had seemed oblivious of everything. Fearful to disturb him and chilled by the raw morning air, Yim wandered off to look for firewood.

She returned as dawn tinted the clouds, carrying an armload of twigs and branches and a handful of herbs. Honus remained in the same position she had left him.
He can’t object to a fire,
Yim thought. She arranged the twigs and branches over the ashes of last night’s campfire, then opened the pack to search for a flint and iron. She found them and also a sheath knife. She removed the knife, intending to use it to shave tinder from a branch, for the grass was wet with dew. Testing the knife’s keen blade, Yim thought how easily she might slit Honus’s throat. She moved closer to him, knife in hand, and weighed her chances for success.
He seems in another world. He hasn’t noticed me at all
. Yim studied his face for signs of awareness and noticed subtle, fleeting changes, like those of a sleeper caught in a dream, a dream from which Honus might never waken if she were quick.

And where would that leave me?
So far, her quest had been a journey without a destination. When capture and slavery interrupted it, Yim had been expecting further guidance. Until it came, safety must be her primary concern. If she killed her master, she’d be alone where a woman without kin had no security. With no father, brother, or uncle to protect her and no husband to claim her, she was as vulnerable as a coin lying in the street. Anyone could take her, and anyone might.
Am I any safer with Honus?
Yim didn’t know him well enough to answer. For the time being, it seemed wisest to remain his property and hope that he believed that only a fool destroyed his own possessions.

Yim made some shavings, placed them next to the twigs, and hit the flint with the iron. When sparks landed in the tinder, she blew on it until a flame appeared. Further blowing spread the flame to the twigs, then the branches. Soon she had a fire blazing. Yim was warming herself before it when Honus opened his eyes. “A princess who can make a fire?” he said with mock surprise. “Your kingdom must be a land of marvels.”

“Would you like me to prepare some food?” asked Yim, adding “Master” as an afterthought.

“Why? Are you hungry?”

“Yes, Master.”

“Then I’m most eager to view this second wonder, royalty that can cook.”

Yim ignored his waggery. She took the brass pot from the pack, measured in grain and water, and shredded the herbs that she had collected, sprinkling them over the mixture. Honus watched what she did with interest. “What were those plants you added?”

“Lemon balm and faerie heart for savor. Bee’s cup and springfoot for health. These are good things, Master. I swear.”

“Since you declined to slit my throat, I doubt you’d poison me.”

Yim looked up quickly and saw Honus watching her intently. “When I trance,” he said, “I still see with an inner eye.”

Yim paled. “I thought you were asleep or something like it.”

“I was roaming the Dark Path.”

Yim’s eyes widened. “You were dead?”

Honus’s blue lips bowed upward. “No. One need not die to go there. I was merely visiting, a skill that can be learned if you have the gift.”

“Gift? Who’d want such a gift?”

“It’s not altogether as you think,” replied Honus. “The dead carry much to the Sunless Way. Though sorrow and worse are there, treasures can be found also. I look for those.”

“You make it sound like robbing a graveyard.”

“I take only memories,” replied Honus.

“Only memories?” said Yim. “Except for the present, all of life is memory.”

“You talk like my Bearer.”

“I am your bearer.”

Honus frowned. “You mistake the word,” he said. “You bear my pack. In the Karmish Order, a Bearer is a holy person. My Bearer was my master.”

“So, you’ve replaced your master with a slave?”

Honus flushed beneath his tattoos. “I won’t tolerate blasphemy!”

“Pardon me, Master,” said Yim. “I meant none. I’m ignorant of your ways.”

“Bearers carry their Sarf’s pack to practice humility and to insure their servant is ever ready to do their bidding. You’re merely my porter. You haven’t replaced my Bearer. You could never replace Theodus.”

Yim started at the word. “Theodus?”

“Yes, that was my master’s name. Why do you look so strangely?”

Yim glanced away, hiding her eyes from Honus. “Only because…because it’s an unusual name.”

“Like Yim?”

“Yes. Like Yim.”

Yim busied herself with preparing breakfast. She stirred the pot to mix in the herbs and set it among the embers. “So you have no master now,” she said. “Does that mean you’re free?”

“Free?” said Honus. “I don’t know what that means.”

“Then you should ask me,” said Yim. “No one sold
you
for ten coppers.”

“We’re all the goddess’s slaves. She’s the mistress who rules our fate. When Karm’s Seers chose me as an infant for a life of service, my parents were paid in honors, not coppers. But what difference did that make?”

“They forced you to become a Sarf?”

“Oh, I wanted it badly enough. The temple was all I knew, so I labored long and hard to earn this face. Yet, I ask you—how can I be free if Karm wrote my fate upon my back?”

“Fate’s but a word,” replied Yim, “that we drape on mysteries beyond our understanding.”

“And freedom’s a word for something that doesn’t exist.”

“I was free once,” said Yim. “It felt different from this.”

“Then I’ve freed you from delusion.”

Yim fell silent and turned her attention to the pot. She stirred the porridge with a stick to keep it from burning and tasted it occasionally to see if it was done. After a while, she said, “It’s ready, Master.” Using the stick, she removed the pot from the fire and placed it before Honus.

“Get me my spoon,” said Honus. Yim found a wooden spoon in the pack and handed it to him. “I’d also like my shirt back.”

Yim stiffened. “Will you look away while I remove it?”

“Yes,” said Honus, handing Yim her tunic. “I’ll close my eyes and not see you naked.”

Yim relaxed and animation returned to her face. “Not even with your inner eye?”

Honus responded to her light answer in kind. “
All
are naked to my inner eye.”

When Honus shut his eyes to let Yim dress, he realized how close his quip came to the truth. Those who could trance had a bit of the Seer in them. Honus found most people easy to lay bare. He knew he would find coins in Yaun’s boot and that Peshnell would protect the miller by selling Yim. Yet some, like his late Bearer, were impenetrable.
This girl’s like Theodus,
he thought,
a misty landscape where only the nearest things are clear
. It seemed strange that Yim should baffle his powers. Honus reflected on this until he heard her say, “I’m clothed, Master.”

Honus opened his eyes. Yim handed him his shirt and sat on the ground. As she waited to eat, her face bore the faintest hint of a smile. It made Honus curious about its cause and more than a little suspicious.

EIGHT

H
ONUS TASTED
the porridge and pronounced it “good.” That was the last word he spoke. Afterward, he brooded silently. The transformation was so abrupt that it caught Yim off guard. Honus wordlessly handed her the pot and spoon when he was done, and she ate silently also. All the while, Yim wondered what she had said or done to so quickly change his mood.
It could have been anything—or nothing at all.
After some consideration, she supposed Honus’s silence was a retreat on his part, an indication that he regretted having revealed anything about himself.

While Yim ate, Honus shaved using his sword blade, then put on his sandals and sword belt. After brushing the leaves from his cloak, he tied it about his shoulders. Yim read this as a sign that he wanted to resume their journey. Taking a cue from his silence, she didn’t speak, but quickly broke camp and hefted the pack. Then Honus led them back to the road and set a pace that quickly drove away the morning chill. They walked wordlessly until Yim could stand the silence no longer. “Master, where are we going?”

“Bremven.”

“Where’s that? Is it far?”

Honus looked at Yim with surprise. “Are folk so ignorant in the Cloud Mountains they know not where the capital lies?”

“It’s the Empire’s capital, not ours. What know you of Taiben?”

Honus said nothing, but he picked up the pace. As Yim struggled to keep up, she sensed he was punishing her for impudence. She waited awhile before putting on her most humble and pitiful demeanor. “
Please,
Master, tell your slave girl about the way she must travel.”

“It’ll seem a long journey, if I must endure such whining.”

“I didn’t mean to annoy you, Master.”

“I’m not used to slave ways.”

“Was your former companion more to your liking?”

Honus shot Yim a hard glance, and she feared she had misspoken again. “He annoyed me in different ways.”

“Master, I beg you. Please speak of our journey.”

Honus sighed, but he rewarded Yim’s persistence. “The way’s not short nor easy. We’ve entered Luvein and must travel through it. It was once a fair and prosperous place, but not in living memory.” He gestured at the road. “Though it’s hard to believe, this was once a bustling highway.”

“Yesterday, it seemed folk were fleeing here. Does an army wait ahead?”

“No. The invaders are to the north.”

“Then why would folk rush toward harm?” Yim gazed about the wild and empty landscape, then guessed the answer. “Is the rest of Luvein this desolate?”

“Worse,” said Honus. “I chose our route only because the enemy will shun it. There’s naught to plunder.”

“So it’s safe?”

“The way’s less perilous than some.”

“Yet you seem to dread it.”

“Is it so obvious?” Honus shook his head. “Luvein is full of memories, and few of them are fair.”

“I feel it also,” said Yim in a quiet voice. She walked awhile before asking, “How long till we reach Bremven?”

“A moon, perhaps less.”

“And what will we do there?”

“Karm’s temple lies on the city’s mount. There, I’ll seek a new Bearer. You’ll get a new master also.”

“Will you…” Yim paused, as if loath to say the word. “Will you sell me?”

“You’re a slave,” said Honus. “It’s the custom.”

“Perhaps you could find a family, Master. One with children to be tended.”

“Perhaps. Or perhaps a master with a treadmill, if you displease me.”

Yim fell silent again. She trailed behind Honus and took in the countryside. The road had shrunken to a weedy lane. With few feet and even fewer wagons to clear the way, the trees and brambles that had overwhelmed the fields and orchards were advancing on the road. The original pavement was exposed only in spots. It was ancient work, but the stones had been fitted with such skill that they endured. Their surfaces bore grooves from long-departed traffic.

Likewise, the landscape held traces of once-prosperous times. The high places were often crowned with impressive ruins. Many were razed fortifications. Others seemed built for peaceful purposes. These appeared to be the most ancient structures and were the most devastated. Yim spied humbler abodes, too. These were also neglected, but not all appeared abandoned. Occasionally, Yim caught fearful eyes watching her from dark windows.

Even nature seemed in decline. Spring was late in reaching the country, so grays and browns dominated. The tangled vines that strangled the trees were bare. Dead weeds choked the open places. The infrequent fields they encountered were littered with the rotted remnants of last year’s plantings. Even the sky had turned somber. Thickening clouds vanquished the sun and the air chilled. As Yim walked through the bleak land, thorns raked her legs and stabbed her feet.

In sympathy with the scene about her, Yim’s thoughts turned melancholy. She was heading south, and though an army threatened in the north, she felt danger lay ahead. Yim was certain that the Seer had believed the same.
I think he worried about more than robbers,
she thought. With insight that sometimes came to her, Yim perceived that something evil lurked ahead, something far more dangerous than lawless men.

Honus’s thoughts were as dark as Yim’s. They kept returning to Lurwic and what he had witnessed there. He wondered if those horrific deeds would transform that place into another Luvein. That dismal question troubled him, so he was relieved when Yim spoke and interrupted his musings.

“What happened here, Master?”

“The Balance went askew. Men came to love good things and not goodness itself. Fairness and charity were forgotten, and vast fortunes were born of greed. Justice was neglected, and great power arose from savagery. Then warfare raged for generations. Foul deeds inspired even fouler ones. The very land was abused. Now all is waste.”

“How could such a thing come to pass?”

“When a man casts a shadow, who can tell if the darkness comes from him or goes to him?” said Honus. “All one can say is that evil arose here and lingers yet. Only now, folk murder for pigs, not palaces.”

“You talk as if evil is a thing in itself and not the sum of ill deeds.”

“Theodus used to say that it’s a little of each. One feeds the other. Thus evil flourishes.”

“How can that be so, if the goddess is good?”