Nothing happened. Lore raised his fist again. Knock. Knock.
The door swung inward. A short, grizzled old man stood in the doorway. His long grey hair hung like yarn around his face. Stubble grew across his square chin. His shirt was stained, and a pair of suspenders kept his pants in place. “What in all the Lands?” he said in a hoarse voice and squinted out into the rain. His gaze moved up until he was staring at Lore. The man’s bloodshot sea eyes widened. “Captain Lore?”
“Stephen.”
The old man swore. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m here to talk,” Lore said. “Are you going to let me in?”
For one heartbeat Lore thought Stephen might actually shut the door. Then with a harrumph Stephen stepped back and motioned Lore inside.
Lore stepped over the threshold, bending down to keep his head from hitting the doorway. A fire burned inside a small fireplace on the other side of the room. A black kettle hung above the orange flames. Lore walked toward it, careful to keep his head ducked. The ceiling bulged down in places where rainwater pooled above. The place smelled strongly of urine mixed with spoiled fish. Lore coughed against the smell. The door shut behind him.
Lore saw a bench against the right wall and a sleeping pallet against the left, with a chest in front of it. There were no other furnishings, except for a fishing net and hook that hung on the wall above the fireplace. Lore went to the bench sat down.
“So what do you want to talk about?” Stephen stood by the door, his arms folded. His eyes were slits now as he stared at Lore.
“I need to speak to the Temanin you were in contact with during the war.”
Stephen snorted and walked over to the fire. “Why? The war’s over, or so I’ve heard.” He stirred something in the kettle. The smell of fish and urine grew stronger.
Lore’s eyes watered, and he held his breath for a moment. Slowly, he began to breathe through his mouth. “There is someone I need to find in Temanin.” He held back the cough that was tickling the back of his throat.
Stephen continued to stir the kettle. “Who?”
“One of my guards.”
Stephen harrumphed again. He hit the pot with the long wooden spoon in his hand, hung the spoon on a nearby peg, and turned around. “One of your guards you say, huh? How in all the Lands did one of your guards end up in Temanin?”
“She was taken by Captain Drake.”
“She?” He looked at Lore. “You have a woman guard?”
“She was Lady Astrea’s varor.”
“Hmph.” Stephen hobbled toward his sleeping pallet and plopped down. “Drake, eh? I know Drake. How did she end up on his ship?”
“Long story.” Lore noticed the curious glint in Stephen’s eyes. “And one I’m not going to tell.”
Stephen scowled and folded his arms. “My Temanin informant is not cheap. And he only works with me directly.”
The urine smell slackened. Lore breathed through his nose again. “I know that. But this time it’s different. I’m going to Temanin myself. So there’s no—”
“You’re going to Temanin? Are you insane?” Stephen laughed. Lore thought it sounded more like a sick dog barking. “You’d never make it farther than Moraq before someone discovers you’re Avonain. And considering how much they hate us right now…” Stephen waved a hand at Lore. “No, I’m afraid your woman guard is gone. Probably sold. You’re better off finding another one.”
Lore’s lips tightened. “That is not an option.”
Stephen stared at Lore with a canny look. “She means something to you.”
“Yes.”
Stephen studied Lore. “You understand that finding this woman guard is going to cost you plenty?”
“I am ready to pay.”
Stephen stroked his chin with his fingers. “All right. I can give you the name and location of the Temanin. And I expect a fee for my information.”
Lore raised an eyebrow. “I’m not surprised.”
“A hundred gold pieces.”
“Fifty.”
Stephen raised an eyebrow. “I thought this girl meant something to you. Ninety.”
Lore stared at Stephen “Sixty.”
“Eighty.”
“Done.”
Stephen held out his hand. “The gold first, then I tell you what I know.”
Lore shrugged and stood. He walked over to Stephen and pulled a pouch out from beneath his tunic. He slowly counted out the coins, placing them in Stephen’s hand. When his hand was filled, Stephen stuffed the money in his own pouch and held out his hand again. Lore counted out the rest and cinched his pouch shut. “Now, the information you promised.”
“I have more than information.” Stephen stood and walked around his sleeping pallet to the chest that lay at the end. He opened the top and dropped the bag of coins inside. Then he lifted out a small rolled piece of parchment and turned. “This is a map to his home.”
Lore held out his hand. “And his name?”
Stephen lowered the parchment and gave Lore a hard look. “I know you are a man of honor and will keep your word. So I know that his name will go no further than the two of us.”
Lore nodded. “You have my word.”
Stephen eyed him a moment longer. “His name is Farien Selk. He is an information dealer. Anything and everything you want to know about transactions occurring in Temanin, he will know. I cannot guarantee he will see you.” Stephen let go of the map. “But that’s your problem, not mine. However, give him my name, and he might give you an audience.”
Lore tucked the map inside his tunic. He was ready to start his journey south to Temanin. “Thank you, Stephen.”
Stephen waved his hand. “I do it for the gold. Just the gold.”
• • •
Day five. Nierne marked the number on the floor next to her sleeping pallet with the small white rock she had found. It left a thin white line next to the others she had drawn. She hid the rock beneath her pallet and stood.
Five days since she had been purchased by Lady Meira and brought to her manor as a slave. Five days she had been in Temanin. Five days longer than she had ever thought she would be in this wretched country.
The desert sunlight poured through windows around the room. The other servant women shuffled through the room, putting nightclothes away in the chests that sat at the foot of every sleeping pallet. Nierne stuffed her own nightclothes in her chest and moved toward the washbasin on the other side of the room.
Lamya bent over the bowl and brought the water up to her face. Her long, dark hair, streaked with grey, was pulled into a braid that reached almost the middle of her back. Nierne waited behind her. Lamya reached for the linen towel and patted her face then turned and handed it to Nierne.
Nierne took it silently. She placed the towel down beside the basin and cupped the water. The water was tepid and slightly cloudy. Nierne splashed her face, and cupped another handful. She reached for the towel and patted her face dry then handed it to the woman behind her.
The room emptied as the servants left to do their jobs for the day. Many would be out in the vineyards picking fat clusters of dark grapes for pressing. There were no vineyards on this side of the estate where the servants stayed. Only a low wall stood outside the windows and endless hills of sagebrush under a cloudless sky.
“You!”
Nierne glanced at the door.
One of the women stood in the doorway, her finger directed at Nierne. “Her ladyship would like a word with you.”
Nierne looked behind her then back at the woman. “Me?”
“Yes, come. Her ladyship does not like to be kept waiting.”
Nierne nodded and followed the woman. Her insides squirmed like worms. Why did Lady Meira want to see her?
They turned a corner. Windows lined the outside wall. Nierne could see the vineyards now, with servants hard at work and baskets held at their sides.
The woman opened a door at the far end of the hall and stepped back. Nierne entered.
It was a large spacious room, but empty. No shelves, no plants, not even a picture on the wall. Only a polished wooden desk and one large window that overlooked the vineyards.
Lady Meira circled the desk, her finger trailing along the surface. “I do not like my servants acting like whipped dogs.” She glanced up at Nierne and stopped. “So if you continue to act like one, I will make sure there is a reason. Do you understand?”
Nierne nodded, boiling fear filling her gut.
“Smile a bit more, or at least frown a bit less.” She began to walk around the desk again. “I will be receiving a very important guest soon. I want him to feel welcome.” She looked up at Nierne. “Very welcome.”
The blood drained from Nierne’s face. She could barely nod in response.
“Now, off with you.”
Nierne left Lady Meira’s study, her whole body shaking. She turned a corner and headed toward the library. One of the male servants stepped out from a room and smiled as she passed. Nierne ignored him. She felt his eyes on her back, watching her every move. She walked faster.
Nierne slid through the door and shut it behind her. She brought a hand up to her chest. What am I going to do?
She stood there a moment, staring at the library. It was in perfect order. Each book, each scroll in its place. The sun shone off the empty tabletop with a bright gleam, and the chairs were tucked below. Not even a thin film of dust could be found.
Still, she needed something to do, something to take her mind off of Lady Meira’s words. Nierne found her duster and rag and began to move through the shelves, carefully dusting each one, letting her thoughts dwell only on the job at hand.
• • •
“Nierne.”
Nierne looked up from the table and found Lamya standing in the doorway. When did she come in? She hadn’t heard the door open.
Lamya raised her hand and motioned toward Nierne. “Come with me.”
Nierne slowly placed the book and cleaning rag down on the table. “Yes, Lamya.” She walked toward the doorway. Please don’t let it be another talk with Lady Meira!
Lamya led the way out of the library and down the hall. They turned a corner and walked by row of windows. Outside, Nierne could see workers making their way between the rows of grapevines.
“Am I being sent out to the vineyards?” Nierne asked. Some of the other women had been sent out. She remembered their groans from the last few nights and the red hue to their skin. She cringed at the thought of joining them. The sun was not kind to people with such pale skin. But it was better than seeing Lady Meira again. Or the visitor she was expecting.
“The vineyards? Oh, no.” Lamya shook her head.
Nierne glanced at her. Lamya seemed distracted. A frown tugged at the older woman’s lips. Fear rushed through Nierne’s body.
Wait. Nierne took a deep breath and let it out slowly. There could be any number of reasons Lamya had come for her. No need to panic yet.
Nierne followed Lamya across the manor. The desert heat drifted through the open windows that lined the halls. Water trickled in the fountain out in the courtyard. Lamya stopped before a door and opened it.
The room was lined with beige, cream, and jade colored tiles. Pastoral scenes were painted along one wall, full of rich green hills, blue skies, and children playing along the pebble shores of a stream. The scene reminded Nierne of the countryside of Kerre.
In the middle of the room was a massive, tiled pool of water with steps leading down into its depths. An open window stood on the opposite side, obscured by large broadleaf plants and pink flowers. The air felt humid and smelled like a damp cave mixed with a sweet floral scent. Against one wall was a wooden cupboard. On the floor beside the cupboard were three white cloths, folded. A long table, about the length of a man, stood a couple of feet beyond the cupboard.
Nierne stared at the room, her heart beating double time. Still, maybe there was a different reason Lamya had brought her here. She looked at Lamya, a flicker of hope burgeoning inside her heart. “Am I to clean this room?” Her voice echoed across the tile.
Lamya walked toward the wooden cupboard. “No,” she replied. Nierne heard the soft clink of glass. “Lady Meira has asked that you bathe today.”
Panic rushed over her, washing away her strength. Nierne leaned against the wall, her body shaking. “Bathe? But I already bathed. This morning. Right behind you, remember?” Nierne shook her head. “I-I don’t need to bathe again.”
Lamya bent down and picked up one of the folded white cloths. It was at least a couple of feet long. She held across one arm and a small glass vial in her other hand. “Lady Meira requested that you use her pool.”
Nierne’s teeth began to chatter. The flatbread from breakfast made its way up her throat. She watched Lamya walk toward the pool. She clenched her hands and stared at Lamya. “Why?” Her voice cracked. But she wanted Lamya to say it. To explain exactly why she was here. “Am I not clean enough? Do the other servants bathe here as well?”
Lamya said nothing. Instead, she placed the linen and vials down beside the steps.
Nierne stepped away from the wall, her defiance giving her strength. “Lamya, why?”
Lamya straightened, then turned around. She sighed. “Lady Meira is expecting a very special guest this evening.”
Nierne crossed her arms, but her insides were twisting again. “What does that have to do with me?”
“You are to entertain him tonight.”
There. Now she had the truth. Nierne stared at her, her breath gone, her heart pounding. For one moment she imagined just collapsing on the floor and crying until nothing was left inside. But she couldn’t. She was frozen, her legs like two stone pillars.
Lamya looked at her with pity. “We’ve all been where you are.”
Nierne found the strength to move. She turned and braced her hands against the wall. She thought she was going to retch. She could see her breakfast splattering across the jade tiles in her mind. “No, you haven’t. You don’t understand, I-I can’t!” She gasped for breath. “I’m a scribe!”
“No, you’re not!”
Nierne’s head snapped up and around.
Lamya pointed a finger at her. “You’re a slave now! You do not get to choose who and how you serve. And if you do not do as you’ve been told…” Lamya marched toward Nierne. She stopped a foot away, turned, and pulled her tunic down from her right shoulder. “Look at it. Look!” she cried.
Nierne didn’t want to look. But she did.
Huge white welts scarred the area Lamya had exposed. “This happened the first time I said no to Lady Meira. I was young and foolish. Instead of serving the guest I had been given to, I tried to run away.” Lamya pulled her tunic back up.
Nierne shook, feeling as though she were going to faint.
Lamya turned around and straightened her tunic. “I was caught and flogged as an example to all the other slaves. It-it almost killed me.”
Nierne looked at Lamya in horror.
“After that, I learned to do as I was told.” Lamya looked Nierne straight in the eye. “You’re a nice girl. I don’t want to see the same thing happen to you. Just do as you’re told. Eventually, you will lose your beauty and youth, and then you’ll be moved to another job. But in the meantime, serve in this way.” Lamya pointed toward her shoulder. “It’s better than being dead.”
Nierne’s teeth chattered again.
“Come now.” Lamya held out her hand. “Just don’t think about it. Think about other things. Happier things. It’ll be over before you know it.” Lamya sighed. “Use the vial of oil all over your body when you are done bathing. I will be back with clothing. And something to drink,” she said as an afterthought.
Lamya left the room. The door shut with a muted thud.
Nierne bent over and heaved, but nothing came up. She heaved again until her middle hurt. You’re a slave now. A slave to men. Just like your mother.
She clutched her throat and stared ahead, barely noticing the pas
toral scene painted on the tile wall.
You are your mother’s child.
Nierne dropped her hand and gripped the pendant that hung around her neck.
Did you think you could become anything other that what she was? This has always been your destiny…
“But I followed You!” Nierne looked up at the tiled ceiling. She raised the pendant clutched in her fist and shook it. “I did everything You asked of me!”
You cannot change who you are, what you are.
“I did everything right!” Tears now streamed down her face. “I have always been faithful. I kept myself pure and followed the written words. I went looking for the Eldarans to save Thyra.” Nierne glared at the ceiling. “And for what? To become a slave? To be used just as she was? Is that it? Where are You?” She twirled around. “Where are You?”
Only silence met her words. Nierne stared at the ceiling, her chest heaving. Then with a scream she ripped the thin chain from her neck. It snapped, stinging her neck. She threw it as hard as she could across the room. The pendant sailed over the pool and hit a jade tile. Chink, chink.
Her gaze shot back up toward the ceiling, and she shook her fist. “I hate You! I hate You! I hate—” her throat closed up. Nierne crumpled to the floor next to the pool and sobbed. Her life at the Monastery had only been a tease. She had been tainted from birth. She should have known. She couldn’t escape who she was.
She looked up and found her reflection in the pool. An image of her mother looked back. Long, red curly hair. Dark grey eyes and pale skin. Nierne glowered at the reflection. For one moment she wanted to cut off all her hair and mar her face so badly that no man would ever want her.
No. Her hands tightened into fists. She would not serve. She would run away.
Into Nierne’s mind drifted the memory of Lamya’s scars. If she were caught, she would be beaten. Nierne licked her lips and swallowed. She stared at the clear water, and her heart hardened. She would just have to take that chance. It was better than the alternative. If the Word would not save her, she would save herself.
Nierne stood. She grabbed hold of her tunic and undergarments, tore them off, and violently flung them across the room. Then she threw her sandals and watched them hit the wall with satisfaction. She walked across the tiles and stepped into the water. It felt like a warm spring day. She stepped down the rest of the way. The water reached up to her shoulders. She let her arms float out, and she dunked her head in.
Son of Truth (Follower of the Word) Page 17
