[Shadowed Path 01] - A Woman Worth Ten Coppers (37 page)

Gurdy rose as soon as she saw Yim was awake. “Mistress, I have clean clothes. They’re Lady Jobella’s, but you’ll soon have your own.” She laid a selection of robes upon the bed. Yim had never seen such rich fabrics. They seemed too fine for everyday wear, and she wondered about Gurdy’s judgment. Yim selected the plainest garment of the lot—a simple, white sleeveless robe. Even this garment was made of some marvelously smooth and supple material.

As Yim put it on, she asked Gurdy, “What cloth is this?”

“It’s spun from moth cocoons, Mistress. It comes from far away.”

“And Lady Jobella wears things like this for everyday?”

“Master is a cloth merchant. All his family wear the finest clothes. He says it’s good for business. When I serve you at feasts, even I will wear a fine robe,” said Gurdy with evident delight.

Yim was disconcerted by how the robe clung to her body. “You don’t think it’s too revealing?”

Gurdy smiled. “I can see you’re new to Bremven, Mistress. If you wore such a robe to a feast, you’d be called prudish.” She tied a white silk girdle around Yim’s waist and then brought Yim’s sandals, which had been cleaned and oiled. “Master Dommus wanted to know when you wakened, Mistress. Should I tell him?”

“Master Dommus? Who’s he?”

“Why, Master Commodus’s son. He wishes to welcome you. Will you see him?”

“Yes,” said Yim. “Of course.”

After Gurdy departed, Yim regarded her attire with growing embarrassment. The length of the robe was modest enough; it reached halfway down her shins. The square neckline was decorous also. However, her nipples plainly showed through the clingy fabric. Yim thought of changing, but a rapid examination of the other robes affirmed that she was wearing the most modest garment of the lot.
How will I ever get used to such a life?
She was still pondering that question when she heard a knock.

“Yim, may I come in?” asked a masculine voice.

“Yes, please.”

A man in his late twenties opened the door and smiled pleasantly as he bowed. Dommus’s dark features were more finely formed than his father’s, but he had the same broad forehead and large, intelligent eyes. It was a handsome face. “Welcome to our family,” he said.

Yim returned Dommus’s bow. “Thank you.”

“So much has happened, you must feel dizzy.”

Yim flashed a wry smile. “This day’s been most confusing.”

“It’s brought surprises to us all,” said Dommus. He smiled again. “For me, you’re the most pleasant one.”

Yim blushed as Dommus’s eyes passed boldly over her body. “I’m glad,” she replied a little stiffly.

Dommus appeared amused by her embarrassment. “I know you’re new to Bremven, but not much more. Father told me little, other than you traveled with Honus. Were you with him long?”

“Ever since we met at Durkin.” Yim noted that surprise briefly crossed Dommus’s face. “We journeyed through Luvein to get here.”

“That’s no easy road. Nor do I imagine Honus was an easy traveling companion.”

“He’s not altogether what he seems.”

“Neither are you, I suspect.”

“And what do you suspect?”

Dommus laughed. “A forthright question.”

“Which you’re evading.”

“You’re lovely, but I suspect you’re much tougher than you look. You’re certainly direct.”

“I don’t mean to be ill-mannered.”

“Don’t worry. We’re merchants here, not courtiers. Plain speaking is the rule in this house.”

“I’m glad to hear it. I’ve a friend who said that’s not the case in Bremven.”

“I fear your friend’s right, but that’s not true within these walls.”

“Then Honus has brought me to a haven.”

“He has. If you’d like, I’ll show it to you.”

“I’d like that very much. If I’m to follow your trade, I’ve much to learn. I want to be useful.”

“You will,” said Dommus. “We all work here. My sister’s away on a buying trip, and I’ve recently returned with a caravan. If you don’t wish to travel, there’s much to do right here.”

“I certainly hope I’ll be suited for something.”

“Father said you’re a peddler’s daughter, so trading must run in your blood.”

“I’m afraid I learned little about selling and buying. I spent most of my time gathering herbs and herding goats.”

“You’ll do fine. Father’s a patient teacher, and I’d be pleased to instruct you also.”

“Your kindness is more than I merit.”

“Father would disagree. He was devoted to Theodus, and Honus was like Theodus’s son. Father would do anything for him.”

“So I’ve done nothing to earn my good fortune.”

“That’s untrue,” replied Dommus. “You earned Honus’s respect. I heard you even saved his life.”

“Honus said that?”

“That’s what Father told me. You seem surprised.”

“I thought Honus didn’t know.”

Dommus looked puzzled. “Why would you conceal your bravery?”

“I had my reasons. I thought you were going to show me around.”

Dommus bowed, though a smile fought with his formality. “I’d be most honored.”

Yim’s tour began in the building’s lower level, where she discovered that Commodus and his household lived above a bustling commercial compound as large as any manor. There were stables to accommodate animals for caravans, a shop for housing and maintaining wagons, a garrison of guards, a countinghouse, and numerous storerooms. As Dommus led Yim around, it became apparent that he was on easy terms with everyone who worked there. The workers seemed like part of a close-knit family, and whenever Yim was introduced, they already knew about her arrival.

Dommus lingered longest in the storerooms, for he clearly loved the merchandise he sold. He communicated some of that passion to Yim as he pulled bolt after bolt of material from the shelves for her to touch and admire. After showing her a room full of exquisite brocades, he ended his tour in a huge room piled high with bales of dingy white cloth. “I don’t want you to think we only deal in luxury goods,” he said. “We clothe everyone. Most of the field slaves in Vinden wear tunics made from our cloth.”

Yim fingered the coarse, flimsy fabric and recalled the tunic in which she had been sold. “This seems hardly fit for clothing.”

“It’s poor stuff, but it sells. It’s cheap, and that’s what they want.”

“You mean the slave owners.”

“They’re the customers.”

Yim reflected a moment. “When I work here, will I have money of my own?”

Dommus grinned. “I can see you’re a merchant’s daughter after all.”

“Well, will I? Money that I earn myself?”

“Why is that important?”

“I want to free Gurdy and pay her to serve me.”

“That seems a roundabout way of doing things. She already serves you.”

“But she’s not free.”

“So? Jev says she’s overjoyed to serve you.”

“Suppose it’s a hot day and she wishes to swim in the river, she’d have to ask my permission.”

“And I imagine you’d give it.”

“But she’d have to
ask,
” said Yim, “and that makes all the difference.”

“Maybe it did to you, but Gurdy doesn’t mind being a slave.”

Yim looked at Dommus sharply. “What do you mean by that? What did your father tell you?”

“He said nothing about your slavery. You revealed that yourself by saying you met Honus in Durkin. There, women are either thieves or slaves, and I’m sure you’re not a thief.”

Yim flushed red. “Now that you know, am I still welcome in your family? Perhaps it would be better if I merely worked for you.”

“It makes no difference that you were a slave,” said Dommus. “Slavery can befall anyone. There’s no shame in it.”

“Tell that to a slave!”

“Yim, most of the people here are slaves. Don’t look so shocked. We treat them well. You’ve seen that for yourself. If we hadn’t bought Gurdy as a child, she might be laboring on a treadmill or bedding her master against her will. Slavery’s a fact of life, whether you like it or not.”

“That doesn’t make it right.”

“You’ve been around a Sarf too long. Such people see the world in black and white.”

“And you disapprove of that?”

“It’s not a question of approval or disapproval, it’s one of practicality. For centuries, Karm’s devotees prayed and labored in the temple. Yet did they save the world? They couldn’t even save themselves. Holiness achieves little. The things we do here may seem less grand, but they make a difference in everyday lives. We deal honestly and provide goods people need. We treat our slaves so they’re content with their lot.”

Yim didn’t want to argue her point further. Indeed, she feared that she had already said too much and glanced at Dommus to see if he was offended. She found only an indulgent expression and something else that surprised her. His gaze betrayed desire.
We’ve just met! How could he have such feelings?

“Yim, you look upset.”

“I…I was just thinking that…that I’ve no right to criticize. You must think me ungrateful.”

“I don’t,” said Dommus. “Idealism is fine, but there’s no need to imitate a Sarf. You can live well and still honor Karm. Before you give Gurdy her freedom, find out if she truly wants it. Be sure you’re not confusing your desires with hers.”

“I’m not sure what I desire,” said Yim. “Since my desires never mattered, it seemed pointless to consider them.”

“They matter now,” said Dommus.

“As I said before, this day’s been most confusing.”

“I understand. You don’t have to figure out everything at once.”

They left the room by wandering through a maze of cloth bales. Dommus took Yim’s hand to lead the way. He still held it as he guided her into the walled garden she had seen beneath her window. It was quiet and empty. Spent blossoms colored the ground in pastel shades and a fountain filled the air with soft sounds. They sat upon a stone bench, where Dommus reluctantly let go of Yim’s hand. They said nothing, but it wasn’t an uncomfortable silence. Yim looked at the tranquil beauty around her and hoped Dommus was right—that it was possible to live well and still obey the goddess.

Yim turned to Dommus and met his eyes. She saw excitement in his gaze—the look of a man who had happened upon a treasure. Unbidden, a thought came to her:
Could this be the man who will father my child?
Almost as if he were responding to that idea, Dommus placed a hand on her shoulder. Before Yim could react, his fingers traveled down her back and raked across her wound. Yim cried out, exaggerating the pain she felt.

Dommus instantly withdrew his hand. “What did I do?” he asked, his voice conveying alarmed concern.

“You touched a wound that’s only partly healed.”

“I’m sorry, truly sorry. I didn’t know. Should I get a healer?”

“Is it bleeding?”

Dommus looked at the back of Yim’s robe. “It doesn’t seem to be.”

“Then I don’t think I need a healer. I’ll just have Gurdy look at it.”

“I’ll walk you to your room.”

Dommus escorted Yim to her door and left, saying he’d see her at dinner. As soon as Yim entered the room, Gurdy said in an anxious voice, “Why did you cry out, Mistress? Are you all right?”

Yim realized that Gurdy had been watching from the window and wondered how many others had also observed her and Dommus in the garden.
Had Honus?
The question made her feel oddly guilty. “Dommus touched my wound,” said Yim. “Would you look at it?”

“Of course, Mistress.” Gurdy untied the girdle and raised the robe until Yim’s back was exposed. “It looks fine,” she said. “Maybe a little red.” She let the robe fall back down. “What did you think of Master Dommus?”

“I’m not sure,” said Yim. “He seems pleasant, but rather forward. What do you know of him?”

“It’s not my place to say, Mistress.”

“I’m new to this house and know nothing of the people here,” said Yim. “I need your help, so I’ll ask again—what do you know of him?”

Gurdy looked at Yim and was immediately trapped by her gaze. She seemed to realize that her mistress would see the truth, and goose bumps rose on her arms. “He’s…he’s kind,” said Gurdy. “He truly is.”

“And fond of women?”

“Yes. I’m sure he’s fond of you.”

“Should I be wary of him?”

“Oh no!” said Gurdy. “He’s so nice you’ll want to…”

Gurdy flushed red, and Yim saw that she was one of Dommus’s conquests. While Yim understood the woman’s discomfort, she didn’t relent. “Were I to refuse him, what might he do?”

“You’d refuse him?” asked Gurdy, as if the possibility had never occurred to her.

“Yes,” said Yim. “I need more from a man than a moment’s passion.”

“I don’t know what he’d do,” said Gurdy. “He’s not used to that. When he wants a woman, he must have her.” Gurdy’s face lit up. “He might marry you! He truly might!” She became enthusiastic. “Master Commodus wants Dommus to settle down and produce an heir. Maybe you’ll be the one! Then what a grand lady you’d be!”

Yim released Gurdy, who avoided looking at her for a long while. When she finally did, she asked in a timid voice, “Did the Sarf teach you how to force truth from people?”

“I learned that skill long before I met him,” said Yim. “I’m sorry if I frightened you.” She walked over to Gurdy and gave her a reassuring hug. “You’ve a good heart. I saw that.”

“Thank you, Mistress.”

“If you can’t bring yourself to call me Yim when we’re alone, at least don’t call me ‘Mistress.’ It saddens me that you feel I own you.”

“But you do.”

“Up to this very morning,” said Yim quietly, “I was a slave myself.”

Gurdy’s only response was a look of surprised disbelief.

“It’s true,” said Yim. “Dommus has already found out, and I suspect the news will soon spread.”

“Then the goddess has truly blessed you to have raised you up so high.”

“Yet when I think of my own servitude, I feel guilty being your mistress.”

“Don’t,” said Gurdy. “I was given to you. It’s all right. I really don’t mind.”

Yim looked at Gurdy and saw she spoke the truth.
That’s the greatest pity of all,
she thought. Yim sat on her bed to think. She would have liked to be alone, but she was hesitant to send Gurdy away. Yim knew the girl would have a hard time keeping secrets.

While Gurdy gazed serenely out the window, Yim reviewed the day’s events, seeking some sign of the path she should take. Gurdy’s speculations about Dommus offered the only hint.
Perhaps we’re destined to marry. A son by him would possess the power riches bring.
Yim wondered if wealth could overcome evil.
If so, must I marry Dommus? Is that what the goddess wants? Is that what’s necessary?
Yim was unconvinced, and the optimism she had felt earlier that afternoon seemed wishful thinking.