Kobb looked horrified. “Killing yourself is never the answer, My Nephew’s Property.” He shook his head convincingly, like he was attempting to talk her back from the edge. “Chox has created a world where there are plenty of things which want to kill you already, without adding yourself to that list.”
Tzadok opened and closed his mouth several times as if about to say something, then looked like realization dawned. He quickly babbled something to the older man which she couldn’t quite catch. He appeared to be relieved to have finally understood her though. “If you wish to Challenge, you need to make a formal proclamation.” He declared with some authority. “If your intention is to add my lands to the realms you control, you…”
She shook her head, cutting him off. “No, no, I’m asking what rules would mean my death.”
“Chox has many rules on death.” The older man intoned wisely, returning to what sounded like a favorite topic. “His table is filled with the Spirits of Men and…”
She shook her head again, getting frustrated. “If I break a rule, are you going to kill me?” She demanded, putting it in the simplest terms she could. “Because if you are, I want to know which rules would result in that outcome.”
The two men looked at each other in confusion again.
“Breaking rules… which would result in your… death?” Tzadok repeated slowly.
She nodded, glad they finally understood.
The Wasteland Butcher looked at his uncle, seeking guidance.
The older man shrugged. “Don’t… throw yourself off the plateau?” He offered hesitantly. “How’s that?”
“Don’t pet cave spiders.” Tzadok quickly added. “Breaking that rule often results in death.”
“You know, that happened to my friend growing up.” Kobb observed conversationally. “Horrible way to die.” He looked at her and nodded persuasively. “You shouldn’t break that rule, (presumably another endearment for a young female). I recognize that you are powerful, but there is no need to test…”
She made an annoyed sound, cutting him off. “Not those rules, I mean…” She trailed off, taking a deep breath. Generally, it didn’t pay to look for reason from those in power. She decided it was best to treat each rule like breaking it could result in her death. She was used to that anyway, since it was how she survived in Galland. “Continue.”
“Don’t…” Tzadok looked at a loss for words. “Don’t… umm…”
“Don’t hug bears!” Kobb cried suddenly, like such an epiphany was the result of a long quest and would certainly win him some sort of prize.
Tzadok nodded immediately, clearly pleased with the wisdom of that proclamation. “That is a good rule, Mother’s Brother. I hadn’t thought of that, but…”
“Not those rules, the real rules.” She insisted. “The rules of this camp. Your rules.”
“Don’t kill anyone.” Kobb supplied casually.
“Unless you have cause.” Tzadok added for him, like the general provision was too broad a prohibition and would be impossible to live by. “Then you would be a coward and fool not to.”
The older man nodded. “And don’t steal things.”
“Unless it’s from someone unworthy or you have cause.” Tzadok finished. “You can steal from them, I don’t care. You’d be a coward and a fool not to.”
“Did… did I mention not petting spiders?” Kobb looked uncertain. “Because that’s a big one.”
“Can’t be overstated.” Tzadok agreed immediately. “A constant temptation.”
She pinched the bridge of her nose, feeling tired. “So: stay in sight, don’t talk to Coastal People, don’t use magic or hidden weapons to terrorize the village, don’t jump off of cliffs, don’t hug bears, and don’t pet spiders.” She dutifully repeated. “Don’t kill anyone unless you need to, don’t steal anything unless it’s from jerks. And… a second reminder not to pet cave spiders.” She nodded. “Anything else?”
“That is a fine list.” Kobb decided, his voice filled with obvious pride over his own contributions to the project. “Chox himself could not create a better one to show His people the way.”
“Don’t… don’t fuck any men.” Tzadok added, sounding unsure for a moment but then definite. “Don’t even let them touch you. One of them comes near you, you tell me or my mother’s brother and we will deal with it.”
“Whoa!” Kobb gasped in astonishment. “Where did that come from, Sister’s Son?”
“What?” Tzadok spread his arms wide. “That is a good rule!” He pointed at her. “That is (probably an expletive) she needs to know!”
She fidgeted in her seat again, feeling uncomfortable with the conversation. “I… I think I can agree to that.”
Kobb shook his head, holding up a hand to stop her. “You don’t have to agree to that.” He told her with complete certainty. He pointed at himself. “I wouldn’t agree to that!”
“You can fuck all the men you want, Mother’s Brother! I wouldn’t blink an eye!” Tzadok retorted. “But no man will go near my (word which must mean property or slave).”
“You can’t do that.” Kobb insisted, as if he were burdened with the great responsibility of being the sole arbiter of fairness in the world. “You can’t tell her that she can’t have sex with any men she wants, unless she is your (strange word which Tandy didn’t understand.) You are being unreasonable. You can tell men that they may not have sex with her, but you cannot forbid her from having sex with them.”
Tzadok’s eyes blazed, burning into her like he’d just caught her brazenly having some kind of sweaty orgy in his home.
She tried to scoot away from him, but her back was already literally against the wall.
He was a man you simply wanted to hide from.
He was big and loud and terrifying.
And he made you very, very aware of every small movement of your body, like he was cataloging it all someplace or waiting for an opening to pounce on you like an enraged panther.
But Tandy was working at the moment, so she needed to be brave and heroically interpret. There was no room for cowards in the all-important world of linguistics and translational services. The official guidelines of the Galland League of Diplomacy and Interpretation was quite clear on that point.
“I’m… uhh…” She stammered, still feeling scared. The muscles in her neck were so tense that her whole head felt like it was shaking. “I’m… I’m not really looking to date during my whole… you know… umm… enslavement?” She told them truthfully. “So if it would calm everyone down, I will gladly agree to that. Understood. I will stay away from all men and please feel free to tell them to stay away from me. In fact, that would actually be very nice, since I don’t really… you know… want to talk to them. At all.” She swallowed nervously. “I’m not… really… umm… ‘social,’ I guess?”
The tent was quiet for a long beat, once again.
“My sister’s son has overlooked an important loophole.” Kobb smiled reassuringly. “Women. You agreed not to have sex with men, but you swore nothing about women.” He looked quite pleased with himself over discovering that important distinction. “If you grow bored or restless at night, I will introduce you to several pleasant women in the village whose tastes run in that direction, who would probably be glad to keep you company here. They are buxom women too, so you will enjoy them.”
“That’s… very kind. Thank you.” She nodded at Kobb, not wanting to seem ungrateful for the offer.
Tzadok crossed his arms over his chest, obviously furious at the man. “You know I meant…”
Someone in the camp interrupted him by screaming in sheer rage, cursing and threatening in Gallandish.
Tzadok looked pointedly at Kobb. “Your darling (strange mystery word) is awake.” He held a hand to his ear. “Lo, I hear her gentle song on the breeze.”
Tandy let out a bark of nervous laughter at the word usage, which was meant to use formality as a comedic device, then she immediately stifled the sound because it was com
pletely unprofessional. She cleared her throat to get back to work. “I apologize. That was disruptive.”
Tzadok turned to look at her in total bafflement again.
Kobb took on a patient tone, like the other woman’s screams of anger were easily explainable. “Children do as you do, not as you tell them to do.”
Tzadok’s head whipped back around to his uncle, and he stammered in exaggerated shock. “Are… are you really trying to blame your little girl’s behavior on me now!?!”
There was an extra suffix added to the term “your little girl,” which seemed to imply complete ownership of a younger sexual partner, something like “child bride,” but in a mocking way. Like he considered the girl’s age and presence an absolute joke, and he blamed Kobb.
Tandy wasn’t sure what that was about, but either way, it was a difficult cultural idea to translate.
“I’m just saying that she hears you yelling all the time and you’re her leader now, so she’s naturally going to follow suit.” Kobb’s tone inspired an air of complete sagacity and trustworthiness. “You are Lord of Salt and set an example for us all. Even tiny dark-haired Brightlighter girls.”
“That is horseshit!” Tzadok exclaimed in amazement. “How can you even spout such blatant lies without feeling shame and dishonor!?!” He turned to Tandy. “Do you hear this, Green Thing? Do you see!?! What did I tell you earlier!?!”
That sounded like a question, so Tandy dutifully responded. “Horseshit.” She nodded. “You informed me earlier that ‘it’s horseshit’ and that I ‘should close my ears.’”
“Absolutely.” He nodded, and started to gesture to his own mouth with both hands and then towards the ground. “The horseshit just falls from your lips and onto the floor, Mother’s Brother! I marvel that you don’t choke!”
Kobb shrugged helplessly, as if unable to alter reality. “The little female is… stout-hearted. You of all people should respect someone who can’t be contained. It shows an independent warrior spirit which is most honorable.”
“She’s a fucking lunatic, Mother’s Brother.” Tzadok retorted flatly. “She bit Xiphos this morning. Almost took his whole goddamned hand off!” He held up his own hand and grabbed his wrist, as though demonstrating the narrowly averted horror. “He’s afraid to even go near her now!”
Kobb cleared his throat as he exited the tent. “She’s… young.”
“Oh, that’s your excuse for everything!” Tzadok snapped at the man. “Every annoying thing in the world is either ‘Chox’s Will’ or because the person ‘is young.’ But you know what, Mother’s Brother? I’m starting to think it’s just your clever way of avoiding problems which you don’t want to deal with!”
Kobb left the room.
Tzadok went back to staring at her in silent irritation, now redirecting all of his frustration with his uncle onto her, adding to the seething annoyance he already seemed to feel for her.
She stared back in both paralyzing abject terror and clinical fascination.
He began to pace back and forth like a caged animal, his eyes remaining on her the entire time.
Back and forth in front of her, every steely muscle in his body tensed and ready for battle. His mane of coal black hair flowing behind him, falling to his waist.
He seemed to be daring her to strike him or confess her sins.
Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth.
Finally she just couldn’t take the awkward silence any longer and blurted out the first thing she could think of. “How many syllables does a compound word in your language have to be before I need to add a hyphen to its written form? And would that count one-syllable verbal prefixes?”
He stopped pacing and his breathing quickened. He fumbled with the skull on his head like it was obstructing his view of something and making it difficult for him to understand. He tossed the helmet aside and stared at her in complete mystification. Mouth agape, looking equal parts baffled and horrified.
“Who are you?!?” He demanded again, not in anger but like he was just too puzzled and amazed to let the mystery stand one second longer. “What are you!?! Why are you here!?! Why do you drive me so fucking crazy!?! WHY can’t I stop thinking about you!?! What did you do!?!” He tapped the sides of his head to indicate his distraction. “AND WHAT THE SHIT, LADY!?! ‘Syllables’!?! ‘Verbal prefixes’!?! Who the fuck cares!?!” His voice went up an octave in disbelief. “I annihilated your people, you realize that, right!?! I’ve captured you! You are MINE now! Mind and body! Completely! I could do absolutely anything to you that I fucking wanted right now! Mistreating you would actually make me MORE popular in this village! Focus on that! Who the fuck cares about fucking hyphens!?!” He paused for a second and seemed struck anew by the irritating mystery. “FUCK!” He kicked a stool so hard that it flew across the room, slamming into the far wall of the tent and tearing a hole in the fabric.
She blinked at him silently for a moment. “It’s just that I’ve read that both six and eight syllables are required.” She continued calmly. “I think the confusion comes from Parets’ study.” She shook her head seriously. “His work is so unreliable.”
He put his hands up to his head again, running them through his hair in incredulity. He looked dazed and almost afraid somehow, taking a step back from her. His breath came in pants, like he was hyperventilating from sheer bewilderment. Or perhaps barely restrained fury? He opened and closed his mouth several times, as if about to say something but wasn’t quite sure what.
“Do… do you know?” She pressed, really wanting a definitive answer while she was here. “It’s very important.”
He let out a long breath, obviously trying to follow his uncle’s advice on remaining calm. “Okay…” He swallowed. “Pedals in the breeze. That’s all. Just calm pedals… floating in a gentle breeze.” He cleared his throat, making a visible effort to keep it together. “Eight.” He supplied simply, like he were negotiating with a strange and alien being, incapable of reason. “Eight syllables. Not counting the prefix.”
“I knew it!” She clapped her hands together in delighted victory. “I told the people at the Academy that Parets was wrong, but you knoooooow how political he is. Always kissing up to everyone to get ahead.” She paused. “Or was, anyway. They boiled him alive. In oil.” She shook her head in condemnation. “Which is a pity. They should have burned his substandard research while they were at it. The man himself was an annoyance, but the garbage he published could continue to negatively affect scholarship for years to come. That’s the real crime against the state.”
He slowly sank into the chair across from her. “I get it now.” He nodded, looking grimly certain about something. “I do. You’re… crazy.”
“I’m not, actually.” She informed him seriously. “I took a test once at the Academy and I scored almost entirely within the acceptable zone. Of course, I…” She trailed off, suddenly finding herself distracted by the fact Tzadok had removed his helmet. Before, she’d been too preoccupied with her research to process it, but now she could clearly see his face.
She noticed, with a purely scientific interest, that Tzadok, The Wasteland Butcher… was a very good-looking man.
Wow.
He was pretty.
Which, she now theorized, was probably why he wore the scary mask around.
He had his uncle’s strong jawline, but it was paired with more finely crafted features. Almost delicate in structure. Like a statue brought to life.
Not to say he looked at all feminine, just that… well… he looked… angelic. Perfect. The most beautiful shiny image of pure masculinity a master sculptor could possibly create. Like if he appeared somewhere and told you that the gods had sent him, you’d take his word for it.
But his eyes told a different story. Hard, sullen, and cold. They burned within the deep shadows of his face, threateningly. It was difficult to imagine that they were capable of conveying any emotion beyond annoyance and rage.
The mix of the frightening and the fab
ulously alluring was quite striking though. It was the kind of handsome which made you afraid to be around, because no one could be that good-looking.
And also because the handsome man in question was a barbarian warlord who killed people the way other men swatted flies.
Tandy swallowed, feeling more nervous than ever.
She had no real experience with handsome men. Even less than she had with bloodthirsty barbarians, because at least she’d spent the day with two of those.
But Tzadok as a man was much more frightening than The Wasteland Butcher, a faceless terror.
Like seeing his face had… done something to her. To her mind.
It wasn’t necessarily a bad feeling, but it still scared her.
He was… he was…
Really sexy.
Unbelievably so, in fact.
With his perfect features, radiating power, captivating eyes, and broad chest.
And her emotions were already fired up from the excitement of her new discoveries about his language.
And, obviously, the whole enslavement thing.
And, yes, the brutal deaths of her countrymen. (Which was clearly a tragedy.)
But in that cloudy, husky state of mind… she wanted him.
It was a weird feeling. Generally, Tandy was not really as much about “sex” as she was about… well… mainly hiding. And learning. And then hiding again, because there were lots of people she didn’t want to talk to in Galland, let alone sleep with or be killed by.
But she found herself wanting this man, her body coming to life as she looked at him. Heart fluttering, skin warming, breasts tightening… all the physical indicators of strong sexual attraction.
She wasn’t used to it.
Usually when she thought that someone might kill her, she tried to avoid that person, not absently imagine what he’d feel like inside her.
Which… she was thinking would be really, really good. The man’s entire body was rock hard muscle and she was willing to bet that it would feel incredible to wrap her legs around him, while he slid into her anxious body. So much strength and power… So much blistering anger… Driving into her as she whimpered helplessly in surrender and ecstasy…
Captive of a Fairytale Barbarian Page 8
