“Civilization isn’t collapsing,” she rolled her eyes, “it’s just… resting for a moment. It’ll recover.”
“I wouldn’t miss it. At this point, I’m not looking to destroy it, but I would not go out of my way to save it either.” He went back to pacing. “But either way, the point is that the Coastal People are trying to take you away. That is our most immediate concern at the moment. Best to deal with that cruel snarling bear before hunting any other beasts.”
“I’m aware of that.” She nodded, ignoring the man’s characteristic bombastic word choices. “I was the one who translated their demand, remember? Even all of that overly dramatic boilerplate about beds and green… um… backsides.”
“But you’re not leaving.” He promised. “You’re mine.”
“Yes, so you keep saying.” She sighed good-naturedly. “I’m going to have to leave eventually, you know. I mean, I’m honored to be given such a prestigious interpreter position, don’t get me wrong, but I’m simply…”
“You’re mine.” He reiterated, his voice dead sure. “You’re not going anywhere.”
“Well, not right now, no.” She admitted. “My research isn’t even done yet. But at some point, I…”
“Not ever.” He assured her, as if that were the final word on the matter. “I have Claimed you.” He said slowly. “Which means,” he pointed back and forth between them, “there’s no ‘going’ unless I’m going too. I keep you until one of us falls from life and goes under, to wander forever in the misty canyons of the Land of Ghosts. Because you are mine.”
She considered that silently. “That’s unacceptable.” She finally decided.
Tzadok’s face fell. “What!?!”
“No, I can’t do that.”
“You’re trying to… deny your (weird word)?” He asked, sounding horrified, angry, and almost curious.
“I simply have too much to do!” She argued rationally. “I can’t spend the rest of my life in The Wasteland. I’m sorry, but I refuse.”
Tzadok looked down at the salt.
“I mean, naturally, I will have to go home at some point.” She sniffed indignantly. “I simply have too many books which I would need to pack.” She gestured at the village. “Because I don’t know if you’ve noticed? But your people don’t really seem like great readers.”
He met her gaze, sounding oddly hopeful. “I will send someone for your books.” He promised. “If you want, I will have them transfer your entire home, brick by fucking brick.” His voice became more serious. “But you’re mine.”
She thought about it for a moment. “I’ll need my diploma from the Academy too.”
“Agreed. Bargain is made.”
She nodded. “Very well.”
He frowned at her, apparently expecting a bigger argument over the issue.
The poor man obviously thought that he had gotten the better part of that deal and he had gotten her as his permanent employee without much effort.
She tried to stifle a smug smile.
Wait until he saw just how many books she actually had.
“Good.” He resumed pacing. “This just makes my point all the more valid.” He continued. “By your own admission, you recognize that you are my (weird word) too…”
“Not until you get my books, I’m not.” She crossed her arms over her chest defiantly. “You’re not weaseling your way out of that.” She arched an eyebrow. “No books? No (weird word). It is a necessary part of the agreement before I agree to take this position.”
He stopped his pacing. “You would really forgo your (weird word) for… books?”
“They’re very good books.” She retorted matter-of-factly. “And if I’m going to remain here for a while, I will need them.”
“I will get the fucking books, Tandrea.” He promised again, sounding like he was the most put-upon person in the world. “I swear to you I will. I will vow this on each and every star if you want, one by one. But it will be much, much harder for you to remain here if you don’t agree that you’re my (weird word) when asked.”
“Yep. It’ll be much harder for you. Because without my books, I’m not staying for long. Days? Sure. Weeks? Maybe. But certainly not longer.” She bobbed her head to show her determination on the issue. She wasn’t simply going to toss aside her life in exchange for some new job offer. Granted, the job did promise to be exciting, but she needed to be strong here. She needed to set ground rules right now, so that he recognized that she could simply work elsewhere.
And none of Tzadok’s ‘heart and mind and body’ Wastelandi nonsense was going to change that.
His were an overly dramatic people. She came from a culture where you understated everything in order to ensure that no one became jealous of you. Tzadok’s people overstated everything. It was all poetic verse, lavish metaphors, theatrical swearing, and ‘Claiming’ random people to come live in the village and help out. They all had BIG emotions even over mundane issues. Thanks to the oddities of their language, every conversation was like a stylized epic or something. It was never just “Can you hand me that cup?” The only way to express that was something like “Fetch me that jeweled goblet so that I may quench my limitless thirst with refreshing ale!”
It was hard not to roll her eyes sometimes. Most of it was silly, but she was a professional, so she tried to respect their culture. Besides, there was an art to it, especially when threats were involved. It was all “hot crimson” this and “gathering of vultures” that.
She’d never heard any expressions of love, but she was starting to get curious about what kinds of language the Wastelanders would use about their actual girlfriends. It seemed they used up the few pretty words their language had, to describe translators and slaves they were oddly attracted to.
He made an aggravated sound. “You understand that people will literally die over this, right? That Hawser will Claim that he is your (weird word) and I will Claim that you belong to me, and if you don’t Claim me, then the clans will go to war over you?”
“You understand that I’m not staying without my books, right?” She reiterated calmly. “Is there a word in there you’re not comprehending?” She arched an eyebrow. “Have I mistranslated some vital aspect of that point?”
He resumed his angry pacing. “I do not understand you, woman. You… you…” He turned to face her again, making a sound of pure frustration. “You are crazy!”
She jolted at his volume.
He frowned, his anger instantly subsiding. “Are you… are you afraid of me?”
“Terrified.” She instantly agreed.
“You know you have nothing to fear from me, right?” He shook his head. “I’d never hurt you. You pose me a much greater danger than I pose to you. You’re going to get me killed.”
“I didn’t say I was afraid you were going to hurt me, I said I was afraid of you. You terrify me as a person, not a threat.”
“Oh, that makes me feel better.” He retorted sarcastically, then let out an agitated sound. “And if you’re so scared of me, why are we arguing?” He spread his arms wide, starting to shout again. “Shouldn’t you just meekly agree with whatever shadowy devilry I’m suggesting? Why are you quarreling with a man you’re afraid of?!? He’s a killer! Don’t argue with him! With me! Where is the logic in that!?! That’s insane!”
“Just because you frighten me doesn’t make you any less wrong.”
He squinted slightly, considering that. “Yeah, but…” He put his hands up to his temples. “Huh?”
“You’re the most terrifying person I’ve ever seen in my life, but I’m sorry, I need my books. Clearly I need my books if I’m going to remain here. Anyone else would tell you the same if you were holding them hostage: books are a necessary part of life. And you simply can’t change that fact. Yell, break things, kill people, I don’t care. I’ll need my books. Period.” She shrugged. “Being stronger doesn’t make you right.”
He blinked at her in silence, like he wasn’t entirely certain she was bei
ng serious. “Actually?” He raised his finger to make a correction. “In The Wasteland? That’s the entire basis of our society.”
She made a dismissive face. “Well, that’s just silly.”
He was quiet for a moment, then stepped closer to her. His voice softened. “Did you just really dismiss my entire culture in one sentence?”
She tilted her head to the side, once more amazed by how pretty he was. There was just something about the impatient power surging beneath the perfect angles of his face which appealed to her. “Kinda.” She breathed, noticing how close the man’s body was to hers now.
No one should be that handsome. It just wasn’t fair. Like nature was cheating somehow, making it impossible to look at anything else.
“I’ll get you your books. If you want them, I will kill whole armies to get them and then deliver each volume to you, careful not to stain their covers with my bloodied hands. I will die for them, if it comes to that.” He moved closer to her. “And as I breathe my last breath, I will be at peace, knowing that your books are safe and your happiness secured.” He promised, his voice a low whisper. He reached up to gently smooth a strand of her hair behind her ear. His dark eyes met hers, his fingers lingering on her face. “I swear this. To you. On all of my ancestors and descendants. Because you are mine and your joy is my holy duty.”
Tandrea was on the verge of hyperventilating now.
He was… He was so…
She pulled away from him, remembering his rule about sleeping with men in the village. She fully intended to follow every single guideline for her survival, even if doing so was unreasonably hard in the current instance. Not that she was planning on sleeping with him here, just that…
Well, it was a distinct possibility that if she allowed her emotions to get the best of her, she was absolutely going to sleep with him. Right here. She really liked this man and being so close to him felt more natural than anything she’d ever felt before.
She cleared her throat, wanting to talk about something other than how incredibly hot he was. “Are you aware that when you’re angry, you go from pronouncing the velar nasal consonant to pronouncing the alveolar nasal consonant?” She asked conversationally, smoothing out her clothing in an effort to reassure herself that she was in fact still dressed. There was something about the man that always made her feel like she was already naked and waiting for him. The sensation was impossibly pleasurable, but unhelpful at the moment. She was trying to be professional and thinking about the man ravishing her wasn’t helping that. She swallowed, trying to keep the desire from her voice. “Is… is that normal in The Wasteland or does it represent a ‘Saltmen’ specific dialect?”
He stared at her silently for a beat. “A furious warlord is yelling at you and you’re worried about my ethnolect?” He sounded almost amused.
“You know what an ethnolect is?”
“I just listen to you.” He explained. “You gave Xiphos a lecture on the topic yesterday. For one hour and four minutes. He fell asleep. I didn’t.”
“Wow.” She breathed, utterly impressed that someone would actually listen to what she was saying. Typically, she was ignored and she liked it that way. But… it felt good to have someone care about what she said.
“You don’t intimidate, do you?” He thought aloud. “At all. Even if you’re afraid, you just keep right on going. You might tremble, but you don’t break.”
She swallowed again, trying to get ahold of herself by falling back on her linguistic observations. “I think… I think it’s just an informal usage, rather…”
He actually smiled for some reason, like he found her work charming. “What kind of society gives birth to someone like you, Tandrea?” He asked softly, cutting her off. He stepped closer to her again, his body forming a solid wall in front of her. The action made her feel trapped… but in the best way imaginable. “And how could they ever allow you to leave them?”
“Well… they really didn’t.” She started to take a step away, but her back was up against one of the huge boulders and stopped her. Instead, she remained right where she was and met his gaze. A jolt of excitement shot through her, energizing her with exhilaration and desire. She liked being close to him. Liked the paradoxical feeling of surrender and power surging through her veins, as she realized that he had her cornered. She liked it a lot. “If you recall… you kinda killed them all the other day.” She swallowed, trying desperately to resist the urge to poke at the firmness of his chest with her fingertip. “It was… was…” Damn. You could get lost forever in the canyons of that man’s abs. You needed a damn map to find your way out. “…tragic.”
“They should have protected you better.” He argued matter-of-factly, his eyes skimming down her body. “I guarantee that you would be a lot harder to take from me.”
“Aw, that’s sweet.”
“I will wring the life from the fragile bodies of all who try, like water from cloth.”
“That’s less sweet.” She took a step to the side, putting more distance between them because she recognized that having eye sex with her employer/captor was not the best way to start off on this job/imprisonment. Besides, it was against one of the only rules here. “In any case, Galland is… well, it used to be one of the great centers of learning in the world. Do you have any idea what it’s like to stand in the middle of a place and be able to feel the knowledge around you? Know that you’re part of something which will change the world.”
Tzadok made a show of turning to look at the endless expanse of barren salt behind him, then refocused on her again. “Obviously.”
Tandy snorted, not sure if that was sarcasm or if he was serious, but finding it funny either way. “The libraries there were… breathtaking.” She looked away. “But then everything changed. My parents were both taken away and…” She trailed off. “And things got very bad, very quickly.” She looked down at the ground. “Most of the staff at the Academy were ‘disappeared’ as well, which left me basically in charge. The caretaker of all of that knowledge. It was a tremendous responsibility, because I knew that sooner or later, the Guardians of Culture would ‘disinfect’ the library and our records. They disagree with intellectuals and education. It makes it harder for them to control people. So I dedicated myself to smuggling out whatever I could and trying to memorize what I couldn’t. I gave everything I had to that library…” Her voice cracked. “And one day… one day my father came back from ‘Disinfection’ and I…” Her voice became a whisper. “I asked him to help me…”
“But he didn’t.” Tzadok finished for her, guessing how the story ended. “He reported you.”
“He lit the match himself.” She swallowed the lump in her throat. “All… all of that knowledge. The history of our kingdom… Gone. And he made me watch as they burned the greatest library the world has ever seen.” She shook her head. “I can’t forgive him for that. I have many personal problems with him, but that was a crime against history itself. The second he struck that match, he was dead to me.”
“He sounds like dog-shit.” Tzadok announced.
Tandy nodded immediately. “Very much so, yes.”
“I think you should become familiar with thinking of him as being dead.” He decided cryptically.
She cleared her throat, deciding to ignore that. “He wasn’t always like this though. He was just weak. Sometimes people… let you down.”
“Sometimes people have always been dog-fucks, they just never had the opportunity to show you before.”
“Again, that’s probably fair.” She absently began writing her name in various alphabets in the loose salt at her feet. “In any case, once that happened, I really stopped trusting people. I decided it was best to just steer clear of them.”
“Is that why you’re so… weird?” Tzadok’s attention was focused on her foot, apparently enjoying watching her write things in the sand.
“I’m not weird.” She defended, looking up at him again. “I’m perfectly normal. It’s just that you’ve got a
barbarian thing going on, living out in the middle of nowhere, so I only seem weird. To you.”
“No, I think you’d be pretty damn weird anywhere.” He leaned against one of the broken boulders, looking at her in wonder. “I don’t understand you.” He admitted. “You’re just…” He held his hands up in futility.
“Weird?” She supplied for him.
He nodded. “But you’re right. We don’t really have a lot of ‘weird’ here in The Wasteland.” He gestured to their barren surroundings. “Just salt and blood.”
“It’s a lovely place.” She agreed. “I’m quite fond of the sense of expectancy it instills in one. Something is always happening.”
“That it is.” He ran a hand through his hair, which was beautiful and dark. Everything about the man was beautiful, it seemed. Well… except the killings. Most of those were absolutely horrible. Except when they were oddly sexy. A feeling which she still found confusing and rather embarrassing. But not so much to stop herself from feeling it, obviously. “Too much, to be honest. And everyone looks to me to solve it.”
“You seem to be doing a fine job.”
“Not really.” He shook his head. “I am not beloved.”
“Do you want to be?”
“No.”
“Me either.” She made a face. “I basically just want to be left alone.”
“Yes.”
“But people keep hassling me. Stupid people, who don’t understand me.”
“Yes.” He nodded again in complete agreement. “You are speaking true, Prize.”
“I’ve spent most of my life hiding from people in order to avoid a conflict.”
Captive of a Fairytale Barbarian Page 16
