Yandharan saw Caitlin and came to a dead stop. His eyes were drawn to the faded black marks on her thigh, rather than to the rest of her. On her pale skin the blemishes were still vivid. Lost in her own world, she whispered, “Tirut!” Yandharan had only been there a moment and was about to decorously turn and leave when she sensed his presence. Her eyes opened and rather than try to cover her nakedness with her arms, she reached behind her and drew her sword Nasht.
“I will wait for you behind the bushes,” Yandharan said hastily, beating a quick retreat.
A few minutes later she came around the bushes, dressed and angry. The circumstances seemed to confirm the prejudices instilled by her Zon upbringing.
“Collector Yandharan,” she said coldly. “I see that like all men, you view women as nothing more than objects of lust to be taken advantage of.”
“I most sincerely beg your pardon,” he replied contritely. “I had no idea I would find you thus. No sooner did I see your state than I turned and removed myself. My eyes saw nothing but the marks on your thigh. If I could, I would remove those from my memory as well.”
She eyed him suspiciously.
“What brings you here, off the high road?”
“It is a cooler ride, and I am in no hurry,” he said with alacrity. “Please forgive me, I cannot bear to have you think ill of me.”
“Why should my regard be worth anything to you?” she asked indifferently.
“Please accept my deepest apologies,” he repeated, looking deep into her eyes. “I beg that you will allow me to wait on you tomorrow evening after my duty calls.”
“I will be in Hareskot tomorrow evening, picking up some things for Binne,” she said, cool and aloof. “I will call on you at the inn, it will save you the ride out to the ranch.”
ALONG WITH CAITLIN, Dhanraj had taken up residence in the Avedus household after his parents’ death. Initially the Aveduses kept his presence a secret, but gradually the truth got out in Hareskot and the villagers eventually got used to it. He had not grown much taller, but he had put on a bit of muscle and was proud to walk around without a shirt when it was warm enough. With Seamus and Caitlin as teachers, he made rapid progress and soon became a full-fledged member of the team in the running of the ranch. Caitlin had helped him to break the young bay and to his delight, Seamus allowed him to ride the horse as his own.
The day after her encounter with Yandharan, Caitlin came into the kitchen of the ranch house after working hard all day out on the range.
“You have had a hard day, love,” said Binne, when Caitlin asked her for the list of things she wanted from the general store in the village. “You may as well go in tomorrow morning, when you are rested and fresh. There is nothing on the list that is urgent.”
Caitlin did not want to mention her meeting with Yandharan, so she merely said, “I will get it done today and laze around the house with you tomorrow. We will drink tea and chat all day.”
She got the trap ready, and mounted the driver’s box. It was a pleasant drive to Hareskot, where she drew up in front of the general store. She bought everything on Binne’s list and added some more small luxuries that she paid for with her own money. Caitlin noticed some young ranch hands lounging about the square. Anxious to get on to the inn and away from the stares of the lads, she made up larger loads to minimize the number of trips to the trap.
The ranch hands had been drinking and they now approached Caitlin as she emerged from the store with her last load. While most of them stood back in the street, two made as if to enter the store. They passed Caitlin a little too close, brushing her side. Then they lurched into her, almost causing her to drop her bags and fall.
“Watch where you are going, you stupid woman!” one of them shouted. Then he turned to his friends back in the street. “Look at how she’s dressed, boys. No Thermadan modesty! She’s lusting for it! These infidel women are loose, and the One God smiles on the faithful who violate them.”
Caitlin did not want to provoke an incident that could lead to an investigation, so she took a temperate approach.
“I mean you no harm,” she said mildly. “I will leave peaceably.”
The House of the One God was across the square. The deacon, a short, wiry man with iron gray hair, came hurrying over.
“Boys, boys,” he cried. “Pray do not use violence in the name of our faith. Lord Thermad and the One God stand for love and acceptance. Allow this woman to go her way in peace.”
“You were rebuked by the traveling preachers, Deacon,” replied one of ranch hands. “Acceptance of the One God and his Prophet Thermad or death—that is the Abaidan teaching!”
The deacon looked at the tough, muscular group with trepidation.
“You have been misled, lads—” he began.
“Return to the House of the One God and prepare for your Feast Sermon,” said one of the hands forcefully. “Or you may find that your deacon’s robes don’t protect you as well as you might think.”
The deacon lingered for a moment, but when one of the ranch hands took a step toward him, he turned tail and hurried back to the House of the One God as fast as he had come.
The ranch hand by Caitlin reached forward to cup one of her breasts.
“Keep your hands to yourself,” Caitlin said, knocking his probing hand aside.
“Ah, a frisky one,” he said thickly. He winked at his friends. “The ones that fight are always the hottest.”
They were interrupted by the sound of a horse’s hooves. They all looked up to see Yandharan sitting tall in the saddle, looking down on the scene expressionlessly.
The ranch hands were frozen into place by the appearance of the Collector, who looked intimidating in black leather, the bronze badge of his office reflecting the evening sun.
“Perhaps you will tell me what is going on here, Cat,” he said, his tone unflappable.
“I am buying some provisions,” she said, her face wooden. “I was just making pleasant conversation with these gentlemen here.”
“I see,” said Yandharan. “Well, I am pleased that there is no need for the law to become involved.”
As Yandharan swung down from the saddle, the ranch hands turned away and retreated toward the livery stable to retrieve their horses.
“Why don’t we go to the inn?” said Yandharan. “We can relax in the bar parlor, and the innkeeper can serve us some of his fine ale.”
Half an hour later they were seated by a window in the bar parlor of the inn. The trap was temporarily in the innkeeper’s barn with Yandharan’s horse. Caitlin now sat facing Yandharan, sipping the ale he had ordered. She had never been in the inn, since she rarely came to village and then only to buy things. It was still early in the evening, so there were only a dozen or so men in the parlor, mostly hands from the surrounding ranches. If what Binne had told her was right, it would get crowded later after the evening service at the House of the One God.
In spite of the sawdust floor, the sour smell of fermentation hung in the air and Caitlin had to curb her urge to wrinkle her nose. It was difficult to relax, as she was conscious of the men in the bar stealing furtive looks at her. The ale was quite a nice local brew, and she tried to focus on it.
“I am pleased that your run in with the ranch hands did not turn violent,” said the Collector gravely. “Otherwise you may have had to draw your sword. And a sword once drawn usually tastes blood and that leads to the courts.”
“Those boys—” began Caitlin.
“They are grown men, not boys,” cut in Yandharan. “They pester women incessantly and get away with a great deal of mischief under the excuse of ‘youthful exuberance.’ It does not help that some of the local girls and even some of the younger married women encourage them. Or that ‘bad boy’ behavior sometimes gets them what they want.”
Caitlin did not respond. She wanted nothing further to do with the local lads. She stared at her ale and tried to blank out the new patrons entering the inn every few minutes, all of who stared at h
er before proceeding to the bar. Yandharan finally noticed her discomfort, drained his ale and stood up.
“Let us go outside,” he said gruffly. “The yellow sun will soon be setting. I never tire of watching it turn into an orange ball at dusk as it sinks below the horizon.”
Caitlin left her half full glass of ale on the table and walked out of the bar parlor with him. She heaved a sigh of relief when she got outside, away from the covert stares in the inn. They walked down the short main street to the ford over the small stream that marked the boundary of the village. Beyond it, the dry, treeless landscape extended to the horizon, intermittently punctuated by large barrel cacti, some as high as twenty meters. They stood side by side and watched the sun go down. Caitlin was lost in the memories of golden sunsets she had watched as a girl from the terraces of Palace d’Orr, often with her mother and Megara. What wouldn’t I give to go back to those simpler times, she thought.
Yandharan cleared his throat, pulling her back into the present. She turned to him and was confused by his look. Then he shocked her by taking her right hand and holding it firmly in both of his. She drew her dagger with her left hand, but he did not flinch. He went down on one knee and gazed up at her with that look.
“Cat Avedus,” he said in an ardent tone that she had never heard him use before. “Your beauty is obvious to all that look upon you. But in the years that I have known you, I have come to recognize things of much greater value—your goodness of heart and purity of spirit. To know you is to love you. I am a man of good character. I have saved and invested wisely; people might even call me rich. I offer myself and everything that is mine to you.”
She looked at him, but her mind was far away. Greghar looked at me like that, she thought. He never spoke, but that was the look in his eyes! Greghar’s face appeared in place of Yandharan’s and she felt an ache deep within.
While she did not respond, Yandharan took heart from her sad smile and the fact that she did not jerk her hand away from him.
“I do not ask for an immediate answer,” he said, still holding her hand and still on his knee.
She slowly came back the present again, looked at him, and the smile faded from her face. She realized that he expected her to say something. But what should she say? Her instinctive response was to refuse him, but how? Would he be insulted? Would he turn violent? She still had her long dagger in her left hand, and as a precaution she did not sheath it. But she did not attempt to free her right hand either.
“Collector Yandharan—” she began.
“Please call me Mantan,” he said. “It is my given name.”
“Mantan,” she began again. “I know you saw me unclothed yesterday, but I had no wish or plan—”
“No, no,” he interrupted her quickly. “That event is expunged from my memory. I wish to dress you in the finest silks, to adorn you with jewels, to take you from your hardscrabble surroundings and give you the life of luxury that you deserve.”
Now her face grew hard.
“The last time a man spoke to me like that, he tortured me when I refused him. You saw the ugly marks of his violence on my thigh. I’ll wager that is not expunged from your memory.”
Now she did jerk her hand free and back away from him. She tightened her grip on her dagger and her right hand was now on her sword hilt. He remained on his knee and continued to look into her eyes without anger.
“I will never touch you again without your consent,” he said quietly. He got to his feet. “Who are you, Cat Avedus? I am not a member of the high nobility or the Merchants’ Guild, so to me the Zon are near-mythical creatures. Even as an officer of the law, I have seen Zon in the flesh only a couple of times in my life. I have never heard of one living among us.”
Caitlin said nothing but stared away, not meeting his eyes.
“Yet you are the image of the Zon huntresses of the folktales—tall, beautiful, more of a warrior and an athlete than most men. Your accent when you first came to Hareskot was suspiciously like the clichéd Zon singsong of satire.”
“What do you want from me?” she asked. “I cannot marry you.”
“Is it because you are Zon?”
“No,” she said. She said nothing further for such a long while that he began to think she would not continue.
“It is not because of what I am,” she said finally. “It is because of what I feel. I love another. I am the mother of his child.”
“I will pretend I did not hear that,” he said doggedly. “Please do not give me an answer now. Take your time, a day, a week, a month, a year. I will wait for you.” He paused and waited till she met his eyes. “And please remember, if you ever need help—my sword and my wealth are yours.”
CAITLIN TRIED TO sit still as Binne brushed her long, red hair, bringing out its lustrous shine and highlighting the blonde streaks. Two cups of tea sat on the side table beside them. Seamus had gone out on the range, but Binne had reminded Caitlin of her promise to spend the day with her in the ranch house.
“There!” said Binne giving Caitlin’s mane a final, spirited stroke. “Turn around and let me see you.”
Caitlin stood up and turned around. She tossed her head to make her fiery locks bounce about her head. Binne reached up, saying, “You are so beautiful that I must crack my knuckles on your temples to ward off bad luck!”
When they sat down together on the couch and picked up their cups, Binne grew more serious.
“Collector Yandharan was here the day before yesterday,” she said, careful to keep her tone neutral. “He wished to speak with you. Did you see him in the village yesterday?”
Caitlin did not know how to start.
“He seems to like me,” she said warily. “I don’t know why. I have never given him encouragement.”
“He asked me whether Seamus and I would approve of his proposing marriage to you,” said Binne, watching Caitlin carefully as she spoke.
Caitlin looked at Binne’s kindly face and knew that she could trust her.
“Binne, I was brought up to believe that relationships between the sexes invariably involve the violent subjugation of the woman. And I have experienced this firsthand—my body was broken by a man. Yet I see the relationship you have with Seamus, and it is full of love, partnership, and sharing.”
Binne’s eyes grew wide as she heard Caitlin speak of her torture.
“I am afraid there is a lot of luck involved, Cat,” she said, gaining control of herself. “I did not have much of a dowry settled on me, so the only man who formally proposed to my father was a merchant fifteen years my senior who already had two wives. It was my great good fortune that I met Seamus at a horse auction and we fell in love. His parents were alive then and opposed the match, but he was stubborn—he insisted on marrying me. He is a good man, and we have had a long and happy marriage. The One God has blessed me.”
“I have heard that barbar—I mean, men often take more than one wife,” said Caitlin.
“Yes, it is common enough. Soon after we were married, we had a string of good years. Seamus was seen as a man of means, but I was not getting pregnant. Several local girls were proposed to him as second wives, some with handsome dowries. I told him that he was free to take another wife, but he would not hear of it. All these years, he has been faithful to me, but he is a rare man. Unfortunately, many men are as you describe. They drink, take as many wives as they can, beat them, and spend all their money in bars and brothels. That was my sister’s lot, poor thing.”
Caitlin nodded her head in agreement.
“I think Collector Yandharan was asking me to become his wife,” said Caitlin. “I didn’t know how to react.”
“Have you had no pleasant experiences with men?” asked Binne. She took Caitlin’s hands in hers. “You have a daughter. She must have a father.”
A spasm of pain crossed Caitlin’s face as she thought of Greghar. He was never far from her thoughts. She missed everything about him—his steady presence, his smile, his humor, the sound of his voic
e. He was so sharply etched in her memory that she could effortlessly bring him before her mind’s eye.
“I love him,” she said. “But he would not have me.”
“The fool!” exclaimed Binne, putting her arms around Caitlin. She held her and they sat in silence for a while. My Cat is a consort for a king, she thought. What coldhearted fiend would take such advantage of her generous nature? To lie with her, leave her with child and then desert her!
“Collector Yandharan is a good man, my dear,” Binne said at length. “To the best of my knowledge, he is honorable, honest, and ethical. He has a reputation as a man of moderate habits and upstanding morality. He has never been known to consort with women of easy virtue. And bear in mind, my dear, that in his position he has countless temptations thrown his way.”
Binne paused to sip her tea.
“Are you recommending him, then?”
“I will be honest with you, dearest Cat,” Binne said, looking troubled. “Collector Yandharan has a wife and children. When I questioned him, he maintained that he would never forsake them, that he is proposing that you join his family as his second wife.”
She paused, searching for strength. She knew that what she was about to say would recall her grief, so she steeled herself.
“If my own daughter Marte were still alive and received this proposal, I would have welcomed it. I would have counseled her to accept him, for men such as Collector Yandharan are rare. I cannot imagine that he would discriminate between his wives or consequent progeny. Even his junior wife would enjoy a privileged, indeed an exalted position in Serat society and throughout the Southern Marches.”
“I see,” said Caitlin. “I realize now that I should be flattered to receive the attentions of such a man.”
The Eclipse of the Zon - First Tremors (The New Eartha Chronicles Book 2) Page 10
