[Shadowed Path 01] - A Woman Worth Ten Coppers (22 page)

When Honus appeared, Yim spoke of her unease. “This place has an unwholesome air,” she said. “Do you think it’s the doing of that man in the castle?”

“Theodus would have said both yes and no, as Bearers are prone to do.”

“I don’t understand.”

“It has to do with the nature of magic. Theodus believed men and women are incapable of magic without the aid of a higher power. A Seer’s foresight is a gift from Karm, not the result of learning meditations.”

“Surely that man’s spells didn’t come from Karm!”

“Theodus thought that dark magic arises from another source, something foul. Furthermore, when invoked for evil magic, its presence lingers. That is what he believed haunts Luvein.”

Yim recalled her vision at Karvakken Pass and the being that thrived on slaughter. “So the dark man in the castle is somehow connected to the first Lord Bahl?”

“Certainly neither man’s powers came from Karm,” replied Honus. “Perhaps that’s their only link, perhaps not.”

Yim wondered if the dark man had helped destroy Luvein or had slunk into its ruins only later. Since she couldn’t discuss the matter with Honus without revealing that she had talked with her captor, she asked a different question. “Why did your master visit Luvein?”

“Theodus believed that something happened here that changed the world, something that went beyond the outcome of wars.”

“What?”

Honus shrugged. “He was still seeking that answer when he died.”

Yim surveyed the blighted landscape around her. “So all this…” She paused, groping for a word that expressed the evil she sensed. “…all this
foulness
could be the result of men’s deeds? Didn’t they realize what they were unleashing?”

“There are those who are mindful only of themselves,” replied Honus. “When they act, beware of the consequences.”

TWENTY-FOUR

Y
IM AND
Honus journeyed until dusk without encountering another soul. As darkness fell, they set up camp by the huge trunk of a fallen tree. Honus had killed a small squirrel and three sparrows for dinner. The birds were reduced to morsels once they were plucked and roasted. The squirrel was scarcely more substantial. Yim was able to find only a few tough greens to augment their meager meal.

Hunger made Yim grumpy. When Honus asked to see her wound, she looked at him irritably, with more than a hint of suspicion. Nevertheless, she hiked up her tunic to display her discolored thigh. Honus examined it and told her to lie down. Yim reluctantly complied. To her consternation, Honus began to massage her leg. At first, she feared it was another sexual advance. Yet his strong fingers never wandered between her thighs. He seemed intent only upon kneading her sore muscles. Gradually, Yim relaxed. When Honus stopped, her leg no longer throbbed. Afterward, Honus spread his cloak upon the earth, removed his sandals, and lay upon it. Yim settled next to him, throwing her warmer cloak over them both.

Yim and Honus’s journey through the remainder of Luvein settled into a wearing routine. Every day, they traveled on a road so neglected that, at times, it was only an overgrown path. They met no other travelers, for the land was virtually empty. Most of the time, they walked silently, for Yim’s growing exhaustion made her as taciturn as Honus. Unlike her master, she hadn’t trained to endure privation, and it took a greater toll on her.

When the dark man’s castle was far behind them, Honus tranced more frequently. Sometimes, his visits to the Dark Path left him tranquil. On those occasions, he shared the memory he had encountered: “The man who planted this tree saw his grandchildren play in its branches.” “The child born here was the joy of her parents.” “Two brothers forgave each other at this place.” More often, the encounters left Honus troubled and morose. Then, he would resist trancing for a while. But he always succumbed to the temptation eventually.

They encountered a few isolated hovels on their journey but stayed at none of them, for the farmers’ poverty and the scarcity of the season made Honus loath to ask for charity. Instead, they slept in the open when the weather was fair. When it was not, they found shelter in ruins. Honus disliked such places, for he couldn’t trance without reliving their destruction. Yim also sensed the buildings’ grim histories. Once, a defaced nursery reduced her to tears. Even when she slept outdoors, Luvein haunted her dreams. Every morning, she awoke feeling vaguely troubled and barely rested.

For food, they survived on the game Honus killed and whatever edible plants Yim could find. It was never enough, and they were always hungry. Starvation exacerbated Yim’s fatigue, numbing her emotions and dulling her thinking. She ceased speculating about Honus’s intentions and Karm’s plans as her existence increasingly centered on the pangs in her empty belly and her tired, aching body. She expended her dwindling energy only on what seemed important—finding food and taking the next step.

In her exhausted state, Yim failed to note the changes in Honus. He gazed at her ever more often. He set an easy pace and let her rest frequently. He gave her more to eat than he took himself, and his voice was gentle, even when he made commands. When he began to massage her back each night, saying that he had done the same for Theodus, she simply accepted his ministrations without questioning his motives. While Honus’s growing solicitude made little impression on Yim, she felt more at ease around him. When she thought of their relations at all, it seemed to her that she and Honus were two stones that had rubbed together until they fit.

The days followed one another until they blurred in Yim’s mind. Then one morning Honus announced, “If we travel hard today, we’ll reach Yorvern Bridge by nightfall. An inn lies there where the goddess is honored.”

Yim perked up. “An inn?”

“Yes,” said Honus. “There’ll be soft beds tonight.”

“And food?”

“Bread, cheese, and ale,” answered Honus, “followed by a hearty stew.”

“It sounds glorious! If I had the strength, I’d run the whole way.”

“That won’t be necessary,” said Honus, smiling at Yim’s excitement. “This is our last day in Luvein. Bremven is not so far now.”

Happiness faded from Yim’s face as she thought of Bremven’s slave market. “Oh.”

“When we arrive there, I thought I might give you to the temple.”

“The temple?”

“Those children chosen by the Seers live there. They need people to care for them.”

“And help teach little boys ‘the art of killing’?”

“There aren’t just boys at the temple. Girls are chosen also, and only some children become Sarfs. Others become Bearers or work in the temple. A few become Seers. And all are needy. It’s a hard fate to be taken from your mother and father.”

Yim noted Honus’s melancholy tone and thought it revealed much about his childhood. Her heart went out to the children and to him also. “Forgive me,” she said. “That was an unkind answer to a kindly offer.”

“It’d be good work,” said Honus. “I think you’d be happy there.”

“Thank you. It would suit me.”

“Then I’m glad.”

The prospect of a stay at an inn sped Yim’s and Honus’s steps, and at dusk they spied the Yorvern River, a silver ribbon dropped upon a darkening valley. A long stone bridge cut the ribbon with a series of arches.

“I had no idea the river would be so wide,” said Yim.

“It’s good to see it,” said Honus. “It marks the beginning of Vinden, my own land. I’ve not seen it for three years.”

“Do they make good cheese in Vinden?”

Honus laughed. “Why? Does that interest you?”

“I’ve been thinking of cheese all day.”

“And nothing else?”

“Bread, too. And stew. And ale.”

“I’m glad your interests are so broad.”

“Aren’t you hungry, too?”

“I am,” admitted Honus. “Roric keeps a good inn. It’ll be a pleasant night.”

Despite their fatigue, Yim and Honus picked up their pace and reached the bridge as night fell. The structure was a relic from more prosperous times. The roadway between its sides was narrow, designed to slow an advancing army, and its surface was worn by traffic. That traffic and any threat of invasion had long departed, for Luvein lacked both armies and tradesmen. Weeds and saplings grew between the paving stones, and Yim and Honus had the bridge to themselves. On the Luvein side was a ruined gatehouse. On the Vinden side, the gatehouse had been incorporated into a sprawling building of stone and timber. Its windows glowed gaily in the evening. “That’s the Bridge Inn,” said Honus.

As Yim began to cross the bridge, she thought of her appearance for the first time in days. It shamed her to think of the impression she would make. She was barefoot; her cheap tunic was soiled and frayed; and her cloak bore a large bloodstain. She looked down with dismay at her scratched legs and dirty feet, feeling self-conscious. “Master, they’ll think I’m some beggar girl.”

“It’s true we’ve traveled hard,” said Honus, “but don’t worry. Roric is an old friend. We’ll be well treated.”

“I’d feel better if I could wash before we eat.”

“And wait for your cheese? I didn’t know you were so dainty.”

Yim said nothing, but the look she gave Honus had its effect. “Before we dine,” he said, “I’ll ask Roric to send a basin to our room.”

“Thank you, Master.”

They reached the end of the bridge and found a large wooden door barring their way. After Honus rang the bell affixed to it, a peephole opened and a man peered out.

Honus bowed his head politely. “Good evening, Father.”

The man turned to speak to someone behind the door. “Better tell Yuv there’s a Sarf ’ere.”

“Will you open the door?” asked Honus.

The man seemed to hesitate before unbolting a small door within the larger one. Honus and Yim passed through it into a large courtyard flanked on either side by stables. At the opposite end of the courtyard stood a large building that had been altered many times, with the most ancient sections appearing to be the finest. Parts of it were stone, while others were timber, and still others were timber and wattle. The windows were positioned unevenly and varied in shape and size, hinting that the rooms within were mismatched as well. Some windows were glazed with glass, though missing panes had been replaced by wood, while others were covered with oiled parchment. A large passageway tunneled through the center of the inn and terminated at a massive gate.

After spending days alone with Honus, Yim thought the courtyard was a hive of humanity. Soldiers mingled with merchants, farmers, and other travelers while stable hands and porters scurried about. Through the open windows of the inn she could hear the boisterous sounds of the common room and smell the aromas of cooking. Her mouth began to water, and she forgot her disheveled state.

Honus called back to the man who admitted them. “Where will I find Roric?”

“On the Dark Path, like as not. We ran off the outland dog.”

“Roric an outlander?” said Honus. “He had this inn for years!”

The man spat. “Grown fat off folk that was borned ’ere. All the more reason to be rid of ’im. We’ve larned ’ow to take care of our own.” He made the sign of the circle. “Yuv’s master now. Ye talk to ’im.” He pointed to a fat, florid-faced man in a greasy apron who stood by the entrance to the common room. He was flanked by another man, who held an unsheathed sword.

Honus crossed the courtyard and bowed. “You must be Yuv.”

“Aye, Karmamatus,” replied Yuv, saying the word as if it were an epithet. “I’m master here.”

“I trust Karm is still honored at the Bridge Inn.”

“We’re full up. But there’s hay in the stables.”

“And food?”

“Aye, I’ll feed ye,” said Yuv, looking put out by the prospect.

“I’m grateful, and the goddess is honored by your generosity.”

Honus turned to Yim and whispered, “I’m sorry about the bath.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she whispered back.

Honus had started toward the entrance, with Yim following, when Yuv yelled out, “No whores in the common room!”

Honus halted and with an icy voice said: “This woman bears my pack and is under my protection.”

Yuv shrugged. “Sorry. So she only looks like a whore.”

Honus placed a hand on his sword hilt. “You’d best apologize to the lady.”

The man with the sword had been snickering, but now he scowled and pointed his blade at Honus. Honus didn’t move, but his body had the tense stillness of a snake ready to strike. His gaze never left the swordsman, but he addressed Yuv in a calm, cold voice: “Will your servant be of use if he lacks a sword hand?”

Yuv angrily motioned his man to put away his weapon. Then he bowed curtly toward Yim. “Sorry I mistook ye.”

“Come, Yim,” said Honus as he entered the common room. She followed him, crimson with humiliation.

The common room was large and paneled with dark wood. The tables and benches that filled it bore the mark of long and constant use. Most were occupied. The diners and drinkers made the room loud with their talk, and boisterous sounds also poured forth from an adjoining private dining hall. Honus’s entrance was noted by a few who inclined their heads and by others who scowled and made the sign of the circle. The rest of the room’s occupants ignored the newcomers, being caught up in food, drink, and conversation. Honus found an empty place at a table of merchants, who nodded and muttered “Karmamatus” before resuming their discussion on the price of wool. One of the older merchants, who had his fill of both talk and ale, stared lustfully at Yim. Yim peered about the room and realized that Yuv’s interdiction of whores was solely meant to insult her, for several were evident. The drunken man clearly included her among their number.

A waiter with an insolent look brought food and drink to Honus only. The portions were stingy and the quality insulting. The ale’s smell betrayed it as spoiled dregs, the bread was a moldy crust, and the cheese looked like a small blue rock. Yim could see that Honus struggled to subdue his outrage. He turned to the waiter, and in a low voice said, “Karm sees the spirit of this gift.” The man shrugged and retreated.

Honus broke off a piece of the crust, and then pushed the remainder of his meal toward Yim. “This was meant to insult me,” he said. “I hope you don’t think I’m insulting you.”