Thrall

by Barbara Ann Wright

  They parted soon. Both dressed, and the gray took up his farming stick, a happy smile on his face, always willing to please.

  Ell staggered back into the bushes, and her small breakfast came rushing out of her.

  “A lie, a lie,” she said over and over. Everything in life was a lie, every feeling she’d ever had. How many favorites did each shapti have? Did the one in the field tell other fini that he cared for them most of all? She wiped her lips and looked at the gray again. Did the shaptis bother to treat them to honeyed phrases, or were their commands always to strip in the nearest ditch?

  And the fini had smiled afterward, happy to please, and gone back to his work, denied even the comforts of those who wore white.

  She would have smiled, too, before. She thought of Elder Lenora’s words about shaptis hurting fini for fun, making them gray, ruining lives on a whim and then continuing to use those lives afterward. Perhaps having sex with perfect fini was boring for them.

  Ell bent and threw up again. Every time a shapti had touched her, every caress or kiss, tumbled through her mind. She’d been happy, she’d enjoyed it, and that sickened her most of all.

  Chezzo whined at her side. “Stay here, Chezzo,” she whispered. “Stay!”

  He sat but didn’t lose his worried look, even as she hurried through the trees. The shaptis were distracted, crowding around the one who’d come from the ditch. By the time Ell had angled around the fields, one of the grays had moved close, scratching in the dirt with her stick and occasionally bending down to pluck something from among the short, stubby plants.

  Her red hair curled around the back of her head, held in place with a gray ribbon. Her skin had been browned by the sun, and she had a dusting of freckles across her nose and cheeks. When Ell made a noise, she glanced up, and Ell saw sparkling green eyes as well as a scar that ran the length of the right side of her face.

  But was it an accident or something a shapti had done to her?

  “Are you lost?” the gray asked. “Do you have pain?”

  “No,” Ell said. “I’m…I’m sorry to…”

  The gray girl came closer, concern on her face, trying to help the distress she no doubt saw on Ell’s features. She reached out one dirty hand, looked at it, and dropped it to her side. “I can request a shapti’s attention,” she said, smiling.

  “No!” Ell lowered her voice. “Look, I… Do you want this?”

  “Want what?”

  “Are you happy?” The shaptis might come at any moment, but Ell took another small step forward. “Are you happy doing this?”

  The gray girl looked at her farming stick. “The shaptis told me to farm.”

  “But does it make you happy? If you had a chance to not farm and still be happy, would you take it?” The cave was roomy enough for two. Ell could keep this girl from the calming pools, and then even if Niall never came, they’d have each other.

  “I don’t understand.”

  Ell licked her lips. “I have a way for you to think, to stop the blackness from coming when you think, so you can choose how you want to be happy, but I won’t do it if you don’t want it. It’s hard, so you should know before you do it.”

  But how could this girl know what she wanted? The calming pools had taken that from her. Even now, she staggered, blinking, and Ell knew the black spots were overwhelming her.

  “Quick,” Ell said, “think of something that makes you happy, and you won’t pass out. Like butterflies! Do you like butterflies?”

  The girl’s face fell slack, and she collapsed to the dirt. One of the other grays noticed and hurried over, desperate to help, always to help.

  “I’m sorry,” Ell said to the sleeping girl. “I’m sorry.” Before the other fini could arrive, she fled.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Maeve stared at the little piece of wood. After a quick breakfast at Otama’s, they’d retreated among the towering trees outside of Skellis. Maeve sent her spirit over the woodchip as Laret had, and she’d felt something faint, but nothing like Laret described.

  “Houri.” She turned the chip over and over. “Our legends call them fae. This feels old, though I’ll have to take your word for the power.”

  “Destructive power.” Laret gave her a fond smile. “Quite unlike yours.”

  Maeve glanced at Aesa to see if she caught the look, but she was staring at nothing. “Could these guards be fae, Aesa?”

  Aesa shook her head. “They weren’t huge, and they weren’t good fighters, but Runa did say something about fae magic.”

  “Perhaps with time and idleness, they’ve become weaker,” Laret said.

  “And shorter?” Aesa asked.

  Laret shrugged. “You did say this staff was powerful.”

  “It killed three witches, and the witch who wielded it didn’t have to chant.”

  Laret held the woodchip at eye level. “Maybe the staff is just a conduit for power, ready to be used by those who know how.”

  “Then the staff truly is a relic of the fae,” Maeve said. “And perhaps the guards are, too. A mixture of fae and human?”

  Now both Laret and Aesa shuddered. “What in the rotten gods’ names happened on that island?” Aesa asked.

  “Whatever happened might be weakening,” Laret said, “and that’s what allowed Gilka to get through. She might have suspected the island was controlled by houri magic, and that’s how she broke it. Or maybe these rocks of hers are also relics of the houri.”

  Aesa shrugged. “How does that help us?”

  “If the houri magic on the island—assuming that’s what it is—is breaking down, and Runa and other witches continue to upset it, the spells governing the natives might just dissipate.”

  Aesa frowned harder, but she looked down as if thinking. “So they might not need our help?”

  “They will if you want to keep them alive,” Maeve said. “If they slip out of the guards’ control, they might be killed. If they regain enough sense to fight back, Gilka will kill them.”

  Aesa scrubbed through her hair. “I just wanted them to be able to choose their own paths!”

  “Why?” Laret asked before Maeve could stop her. “What makes them so different from anyone else your people have raided?”

  “Because I’m there now!” Aesa shouted as she stood. “I’m there, and I can’t stand it. Fighting and dying is one thing, and running for your life is another, but to just stand there and happily accept whatever someone wants to do to you, it’s…” She walked in circles for a moment, lifting her arms and dropping them.

  “Anathema,” Laret said softly. When they both looked at her, she smiled. “It’s an old word, something one despises or loathes.”

  Aesa nodded, breathing hard. “It’s my anathema, then.”

  Laret tilted her head. “Anathema to you.”

  “Whatever. If I do nothing, Ell’s face will follow me the rest of my days like Haegrig’s father’s ghost from the old tales.”

  Maeve watched Aesa pace and felt as if every step was taking her further away. Maeve wouldn’t have been able to watch the finis’ suffering, either, probably why a raiding ship was the worst place for her, but she’d never thought it would be the wrong place for Aesa. And it hadn’t been, until Ell. “Is she beautiful?”

  Aesa stumbled as if tripped. “Who?”

  Maeve gave her a dark look.

  “Does it matter?” Aesa asked.

  “She must be.”

  “I’m not doing this for her beauty!”

  “You do find her beautiful, then.”

  “Maeve.” Aesa dropped to her knees at Maeve’s side. “Tell me you understand. You, who couldn’t rest until you returned a baby bird to its mother’s nest.”

  Maeve caressed her cheek. “You could have chosen any of them to spare from the pool. Why her?”

  “She tried to help me even after we’d attacked her people, she—”

  “All of them tried to help you, so you said.”

  Aesa’s mouth worked for a few mo
ments. “What do you want me to say?”

  “I want you to be honest with yourself.”

  Aesa jumped to her feet again. “And what about you? Am I to be blamed for thinking thoughts you’ve already acted on?”

  Laret drew up, spine stiffening. Maeve stepped between them, capturing Aesa’s hands. “I’m not jealous. As you say, how can I be when…” She cleared her throat. “If you can rescue this woman and bring her back here, would that satisfy your anathema?”

  “That’s not really—” Laret started.

  Maeve waved at her to be quiet. “If you’re doing this for one woman, then fetch her, Aesa. Anything else, and you oppose Gilka and turn your back on your dream.”

  Aesa shook her head miserably. “Do you think you could come to love Ell if she lived in our home? Do you think we could all four love one another?”

  Maeve sighed and knew what she had to say, knew when to hold Aesa tighter and when to let her go. “If not, there are other homes.”

  Aesa crushed her in an embrace until Maeve found it hard to breathe. Her quiet sobs shuddered through both their bodies, and she mumbled, “I don’t want to live in another house.”

  Maeve rubbed her back and felt a few lazy tears start, but she didn’t weep like Aesa did, like someone had died. “We’ll always be…” What? Bondmates? Friends? Something had come between them, something like steel. Maeve had felt it coming ever since that night during the Thraindahl, when she’d sunk her teeth into Aesa’s shoulder. “It’s not just Ell, is it? You have to save all of them.”

  Aesa pulled back, wiping her eyes on her sleeves. She took a deep breath and stared into the trees. Maeve let her think, wanting her to consider it, to picture the faces of the fini and decide what she wanted. “Yes.”

  Maeve let out a breath, happy, though she didn’t know exactly why. “Good. Now, what can we do to help?” She glanced back at Laret.

  “I’ll need to study the houri magic. Aesa, you’ll have to inform Ell of what we’re trying to do. She should speak to her people.”

  “We can barely understand each other, though she learned our language quicker than I learned hers.”

  Laret held her arms to the sides. “Then you must put your faith in her. She’s the only one who can speak for you.”

  Aesa hung her head. “I shouldn’t have left her there. But what else could I do?”

  “There’s no use guessing,” Maeve said. “You need to speak to Gilka and find out when you’re going again, and more importantly, if she’s going to let us travel with you.”

  *

  Otama was lurking around the longhouse when Aesa returned. Gilka wasn’t in the common room, so Aesa settled in to wait, hoping Otama would ignore her but not surprised when Otama plonked down beside her.

  “What’s eating at you?”

  Aesa shrugged.

  “You stared into space last night, you ran away first thing this morning, and now you look like someone died.” She leaned close. “And you’ve been weeping.”

  “What of it?”

  Otama took a long slurp from her cup. “Your bondmate leave you?”

  Aesa sighed loudly. Somewhere along the line, they’d left each other.

  Otama clapped her on the shoulder. “For that blood witch? You could all be happy together, seems like.”

  Aesa barked a laugh. “We don’t get along.”

  “Tell her to piss off, then! We’ll smack her over the head and dump her on the side of the road. She’ll know not to come back.”

  “We?”

  Otama leaned back, brows furrowed in hurt. “We’re shipmates, aren’t we?”

  The little woodchip, the fact that even now her plans might be contrary to her thrain’s, brought tears to Aesa’s eyes. “We are.”

  Otama stared hard a moment before pulling Aesa roughly into her arms. “That’s all right. I felt the same way when it finally hit me that I had a ship, that I wasn’t alone anymore.” She sat back and held Aesa by the shoulders. “Come what may, bondmate or not, you’ll always have your crew, Aesa.”

  The thought would have made her deliriously happy once. Now it was just a twist of the knife. “If you were ever captured, what would you want to happen?”

  “That’s a strange question.”

  “I’m just curious. Would you rather be killed than live as a slave?”

  “I’d rather escape and be alive.”

  “If you knew I was going to be captured, then, or any of the crew, and we had no possibility of escape, what would you do?”

  Otama shrugged slowly. “I guess I’d kill you if I could. These are dark, unnecessary ponderings, Aesa. Think on brighter things.” She wandered off.

  So, death was better than bondage. Aesa bet the others would say the same, and she was just as certain that Otama only thought that way about her own people, maybe even just her crewmates. Who cared if other people had to live as slaves?

  But what if the fae decided to expand their hold now that their island had been breached. If Aesa could convince Gilka that they needed to fight this fae influence, and that freeing Ell’s people would help them do that…

  But how to speak it without admitting what she’d done, the theft of the woodchip and telling Maeve and Laret of the fini? If Runa had already drawn the same conclusions as Laret, then Gilka might be thinking along the same lines. There might be no more need for secrecy.

  Aesa lingered in the back of the hall, waiting until Runa and Gilka came out of one of the back rooms, both of them sweating and pulling on their clothes, grinning at each other. Aesa hid in the shadows. When Runa continued outside while Gilka stopped to speak with someone, Aesa skirted the edge of the hall and followed in Runa’s footsteps.

  Runa picked up a wide bowl before continuing to the well. She sat on a low wall nearby, washing her face.

  Aesa sauntered to the well and used the ladle to drink. She nodded at Runa as if just spotting her, hoping her look was casual enough.

  “Aesa,” Runa said with a nod.

  “How goes it with you?”

  “Well enough. And you?”

  “I’m anxious to be gone again.”

  “And leave your pretty bondmates?” She tsked, a teasing smile on her face.

  Aesa snorted as she took a seat on the wall. “Laret is nothing to me.”

  Runa shrugged. “You’ll get your wish soon enough.”

  “Does that mean you’ve broken the staff’s magic?” She looked away, trying for casual again and hoping Runa couldn’t hear her pounding heart.

  “With your interest in magic, maybe you should have tried to be a witch.”

  Aesa had to laugh. “I never had the knack.”

  “Never fear. You are surrounded by power.” She winked and combed wet fingers through her hair. “The staff is very complicated.”

  “Do you think it could be fae?” Runa stared at her strangely. Aesa forced herself to laugh and hoped it didn’t sound too wild. “Laret said something about encountering relics in her travels, and I just remembered you once mentioned fae magic.”

  Runa sat forward slowly. “It was you. You broke off a piece of the staff.”

  Aesa’s belly went cold. Perhaps she’d misheard. “Why…why would you…”

  “Oh, Aesa.” She stood. “When your bondmate or the blood witch examined the piece you stole, I felt it. I just didn’t know who it was. They really should have warned you.”

  Run, that was the only thing Aesa could think of. She tensed, ready to sprint, but Runa lifted a hand, and Aesa stumbled, sound rushing in her ears, coming from every angle, and she couldn’t find the way out of the yard. The street seemed to move, and up became down. Sight and sound and smell jumbled together, making her dizzy, and then she was falling or floating, she couldn’t tell. When blackness finally gobbled her up, she was just happy to be free.

  *

  A twig cracked, and shivers traveled up Laret’s spine. Such a small sound, easily disregarded, but Maeve’s gaze slid to hers, and she knew they wer
e thinking the same thing. Someone was tracking them.

  They’d been wandering the woods, looking at the plants, waiting for Aesa. Maeve had been giving her playful, loving glances all morning, and it took everything in Laret’s power not to kiss her, not to lower her to the soft moss and make love to her.

  Aesa would not approve, no matter what she said about her feelings, what peace she’d seemed to come to. Laret was certain that such a flagrant display of affection would have her killing them both.

  Now they turned to the forest behind them. Laret reached under her tunic, to the beads that lined her hanab. She nicked her finger. “Who’s there?”

  Gilka stepped from behind one of the trees, quiet for such a large woman, and Laret bet she’d cracked a twig on purpose. “Whatever you’re thinking of doing with that bloody thumb, think again. I may not have a blood witch, but I’m betting my breaker is more than a match for you.”

  And that could very well be, especially if Laret couldn’t get close enough. “What do you want?”

  “Where is Aesa?” Maeve asked.

  Gilka chuckled, a sound with no humor. She slid her thumb along the head of her hammer. “My question is, who are you working for? Who could turn my bear cub from me except her bondmate?”

  “Aesa worships you. She wouldn’t turn against you.”

  “Give me an answer before I kill you; put some worth on your miserable hide.”

  Laret cursed. That damn staff fragment. She’d known any witches would feel her probing. She’d hoped they’d been asleep. “It was me. I wanted to see what kind of magic the staff was made of.”

  Gilka gave her a dark look. “And how did you know of it in the first place?”

  Laret decided to try for a lie, to protect Aesa for Maeve’s sake. “Aesa thought you might need my help breaking its magic. She said people had died. She was worried for her crew.”