The Unfinished Song: Taboo (8 page)

Dindi did feel as wobbly as a three-footed goat when she returned to Kavio with a stone bowl of water. Her stomach clenched, and her head felt dizzy. As she set down the bowl on the table in front of him, her bare arm brushed his bicep. He watched her silently.

She took his hands in hers.

“I can do it myself,” he said. But he made no effort to pull away.

Her lashes brushed her cheeks. She couldn’t meet his eyes. Instead, she concentrated on his hands. They were large, well formed, with calluses that indicated he knew his way around a bow.

When had Abiono and Brena discovered that the man they had sent away like a beggar was the most powerful Zavaedi in Faearth, and an honored guest of the War Chief of Yellow Bear? They were both fawning over Kavio. Dindi had wanted to apologize to Kavio for snubbing him before, but there was no way she could say anything now. He would think she only wanted to ingratiate herself because she’d discovered he had a Shining Name.

  “Thank you, I think they’re clean now,” he said, faintly amused. Dindi realized that she had been scrubbing his hands for over a minute. She blushed and dropped his hands like hot coals.

Kavio turned away from her, back to the conversation at the table. The young man named Zumo had started another argument.

“It
is
an insult,” Zumo said hotly, “a slap in our face, to raise a man exiled by our tribe to train your army. What else must we conclude except you are planning to raise that army against the Labyrinth? Danumoro, even you must see that!”

Danumoro said, “It is troubling, Hertio.”

“Nonsense,” said Hertio. “Only a tribe that viewed Yellow Bear as an enemy would conclude such a thing. As far as I am aware, the Rainbow Labyrinth is our ally. Or are you saying it is otherwise, Zumo grandson of the Bone Whistler?”

Zumo scowled.

“Speaking of our enemies,
I have a gift for Kavio.” Hertio motioned, and several warriors responded. They dragged one of the Blue Waters prisoners up the stone steps and forced the huge, muscular man to kneel in front of Kavio. “You vanquished this enemy, Kavio. You earned him as your personal slave.”

Brena caught her breath when she saw the man forced to his knees before the stone table. Rthan hardly looked tamed. It took six warriors, two with whips, to hold him down. The pride on his tattooed face was fierce enough to shatter sugar loaves.

“I thank you for your gift, Hertio.” Kavio studied his enemy. “
Prisoner! Your life is worthless now that you are a toy in the hands of your enemies. You will be kept alive only so long as it amuses the tribe of Yellow Bear to torment you.”

Rthan threw back his head, meeting Kavio’s eye challengingly. A slight smile touched Kavio’s lips.

“You do have one other choice,” Kavio continued. “The law of light and shadows mandates that any under the penalty of death, whether criminal or prisoner of war, may opt instead to be offered as a sacrifice to the fae. If you wish, we will take you to the Tor of the Stone Hedge at midnight, and summon the fae. If you are still alive on the third night, you may live free.”

Rthan recoiled. Hate contorted his face. “I’ll not be your blood sacrifice to the demon bears of the Tors. I’m not a babe, to weep in fear of your tortures. I will die like a man.”

“As you decide. Perhaps we should do to you what you would have done.” He gestured to one of the guards with a whip. “Beat him, on my signal . . .”

Brena knew she shouldn’t pity her enemy, but she couldn’t bear to watch. Only when she heard no smack of leather to flesh did she raise her face in surprise. Kavio had converted his signal to the guard into a gesture toward Brena.

“But I do not deserve this slave,” he said smoothly. “It was actually Zavaedi Brena who delivered the victorious blow. I think you should grant this slave to her.”

Brena sat straight up. “What?”

All heads, including Rthan’s glowering one, swiveled to her.

“She’s a widow,” Kavio went on, either oblivious or impervious to her glares, “with no husband to till her fields for her. A slave husband would be a handsome reward for her courage and devotion in defending the Initiates against this vile foe.”

“I don’t need any kind of husband, certainly not a slave!” sputtered Brena.

“Naturally, if you prefer to let someone else avenge you, I’m sure many would be glad to make the prisoner suffer,” Kavio told her. “But after seeing the depth of your fury at this man during the battle, I felt certain that you would prefer to mete out your own punishment. Imagine the numerous ways you could demean him to avenge your own humiliation.”

She glanced at Rthan, worried that in his pride and fury, he would do something stupid. He rumbled like a volcano about to erupt. Their eyes met briefly, and she flinched at the loathing that scorched her.
Curse you, Kavio,
she thought.
Do not do me any favors!

“Perhaps I was wrong,” Kavio said. He raised his hand again, and this time the leather cracked in the air and lashed Rthan across the back. He roared and almost broke free of the six warriors holding him down.

“Wait!” Brena said. “I . . . up until now I have needed no husband, but I forgot that both my daughters, who helped me before, will now be busy with duties of their Tavaedi societies.” Aware of Rthan’s ire, she refused to be intimidated. She kept her tone as callous as possible. “Perhaps a brute would be of use for brute labor.”

While Hertio distributed the rest of the Blue Waters prisoners as slaves to various warriors, Dindi and the other handmaidens cleared the remains of the meal and brought more corn beer. Kavio plied his cousin with drink.

“You have no one to blame but yourself that I’m here, cousin,” Kavio said. “But you may watch me train Hertio’s warriors yourself if you’re still suspicious. I’m sure Hertio won’t mind, seeing as how we are all allies, right, Hertio?”

Hertio smiled sourly. “Of course not.”

“Oh, I’ll be watching you,” Zumo promised. The words
would have sounded more menacing if they hadn’t been
slightly slurred. “Girl! More beer!”

He gestured to the nearest handmaiden, who happened to be Dindi. As she nervously poured from the jug into his cup, Zumo rewarded her with a sloppy smile. Watching, Kavio narrowed his eyes.

“Thank you,” said Zumo, reaching out to pat Dindi’s hand.

It burned like a live coal. Instead of Zumo, she saw an older man with a headdress made of bones. She screamed and dropped her jug as a Vision exploded around her.

No
!
she
cried voicelessly, clawing against the Vision.

Vio’s tent was more like a large hut. A tall tree trunk for a central beam allowed for a large radius, and other, smaller posts held up the stretched hide so that there was enough room to walk upright inside the tent without ducking. Furs on one side of the tent provided ample bedding, which left the other side of the tent for a curious, shallow flat bowl filled with a finger depth of water. Beside it was a woman’s hair comb.

“Do you know what that is?” he asked Vessia.

She shook her head.

He studied her again, searching for something. “It’s a looking bowl. You can brush your hair, admire your lovely complexion.”

“Ah,” she said. She sat down on the furs, before the looking bowl, though she didn’t glance down at it. “You wish me to beautify myself before you sleep with me?”

He seated himself on the bed furs, near enough to her that she could feel the heat from his body.

“May I comb your hair?” he asked.

She glanced at him contemptuously for this foolish question. As if he did not have a whole army to let him do with her as he liked. He arched his eyebrow, seemingly aware what she was thinking. He picked up the comb and began to tease it through her long hair. To her surprise, his touch as he brushed her hair felt gentle, even soothing. His hands touched at her brow, the back of her neck, her shoulders, the small of her back as he drew the comb down her hair.

“You don’t seem frightened that I brought you to my bed. Does the idea of sleeping with a powerful man excite you?”

Vessia found that suggestion repulsive.

“I don’t like you,” she said firmly. “Hertio also gave me a hair comb.”  He hadn’t combed her hair like this, though.
Warmth radiated down her whole body in response to Vio’s touch, a sensation more delicious and strange than mere magic.
She didn’t say that out loud. “He wanted me to beautify myself before I came to his bed. I did not like him to touch me, so I threw his comb back at him. He said he could force me whether I liked it or not. But then your army came, and he forgot.”

“Ah,” said Vio. “So that’s why good Hertio was so eager to sacrifice you out of his ‘friendship’ for Danumoro. Poor Danu. Did he know what Hertio tried to do to you?”

“No. It would have upset him.”

“You obviously love Danu,” said Vio. “You sacrificed yourself to save him. Why didn’t you agree to marry him?”

“I did what I did because it was the right thing to do,” she said. She didn’t know why, but she wanted to explain some more. “I’ve never loved anyone.”

“And no man has ever loved you.”

“Many said they did.”

“I’ll bet,” he laughed. “But none could ever even see you, so how could they love you?”

“But
you
can see me?” she asked scornfully.

“Only well enough to know I cannot see you at all,” he said. Was that bittersweet regret in his voice another ploy? There was so much about people, especially about what passed between men and women, which she couldn’t fathom.

“I know you’re not mine to possess, Corn Maiden,” he said, even more sadly. “I didn’t bring you here to force you.”

She turned around to look him in the face. “Then why did you bring me here?”

He still held the tresses of her hair in his hands. Her hair wrapped around her body like a rope because of the way she had twisted. He didn’t let go.

“I hoped it would not be force,” he said quietly.

“Then you were a fool.”

“Yes.” He let her hair sift out of his fingers. “Obviously.”

He rose and turned away from her, his embarrassment so painful that even she could feel it. She refused to pity him. What had he thought? Did he think she would forget the cage just because he had brought her to his tent?

“May I go back to the cage now?” she asked.

“No. You will sleep on my furs tonight.”

“You said
—
”

“You will sleep unmolested.”

“What’s the point?”

Vio smiled. “I may be a fool when dealing with women, but I am wise when dealing with men. The others will know that you spent the night in my tent. They will think what they think, and respect me more for it. And,” he expelled a breath, “they will leave you alone, even when I am not there to watch over you.”

“Until you deliver me to the Bone Whistler and he kills me.”

“One thing I have learned,” said Vio
,
“is to eat whenever there is food, for there might
be no more
food to come; and to sleep wherever there is a bed, for there might be sleepless days ahead. So sleep now, pretty Corn Maiden. You never know what tomorrow will bring. Sleep as best you can.”

Dindi awakened in a strange bed. Slices of moonlight as pale as halved pears poured in through the smoke hole in the roof of a cozy one-room
hut. She sat up
straight into the arms of Kavio before she scampered back into the corner of the bed against the weaving on the wall.