Yim broke off a piece of the still-warm loaf and handed it to Honus. Then she took a piece for herself. The bread was white and flavored with honey and dried fruit. Its rich flavor contrasted with the coarse brown bread they had eaten at dinner.
“I think this was baked for the master’s table,” said Yim.
“It’s not servants’ fare,” agreed Honus.
Yim and Honus walked as they dined, for the morning was still too cold to sit comfortably. When the sun rose higher, the air warmed. Soon the road began to fill with traffic. Those travelers who worshipped Karm were courteous. The Devourer’s followers were rude. Others averted their eyes, seemingly afraid to reveal their convictions. Thus, by the way she was greeted on the road, Yim could discern the beliefs of the surrounding countryside. As the day advanced, hostility predominated.
In the afternoon, a young man spit on Yim as he passed. Honus whirled at the sound, his hand upon his sword hilt. He found Yim calmly using her sleeve to wipe the spittle from her cheek. Her placidity set the example, and Honus released his sword. Only when he faced forward did Yim permit herself a shudder. She didn’t want to arouse Honus’s concern, for she wished to continue acting as his Bearer. Yim found the hate of Karm’s enemies easier to endure when she recalled her former status. As a slave, her feelings were irrelevant. At the inn, men had been bold with their glances and free with their hands whenever Honus was absent. Even Cara had made demeaning assumptions. Spit was less painful than such treatment and easier to wipe away.
When dusk approached, Yim and Honus were traveling a stretch of road that was thick with the adherents of the Devourer. Thus Yim was uneasy as she approached a manor house to ask for food and lodging. Its construction was typical of the region. The outer walls of the house and the farm buildings were linked together to form a single compound.
As they walked up to the building, Honus commented, “They’re behind in their plowing.”
Like its fields, the manor house looked neglected. Though a light shone in an upper-story window, the first-story ones were boarded up. “It seems this estate has fallen on hard times,” Yim said. “Perhaps we should ask elsewhere for charity.”
“It grows late,” replied Honus, “and we’ve already traveled far. Our modest needs should be no burden.”
When they reached the manor’s entrance, the door opened before Yim could knock. A woman who was younger than Yim stood in the doorway. “Come in quickly, Karmamatus.” The urgency in her voice made Yim and Honus hurry inside. The woman anxiously scanned the darkening countryside before shutting and bolting the door. Only then did she bow toward Yim. “Welcome, servants of Karm.”
Yim returned her bow. “We request shelter and food in respect for the goddess.”
“We’re honored by your request. I’ll tell my parents.”
The woman left Yim and Honus standing in the entrance hall while she went to announce their arrival. As Yim waited, she thought the woman’s appearance confirmed her impression that the estate’s fortunes had declined. Her once-fine clothes were worn and soiled, and though she seemed to be the master’s daughter, her hands were rough and she performed the duties of a servant.
There was a grand stone stairway with black marble treads that led to the upper apartments. Yim looked up it, expecting the master and mistress of the house to appear at its head. They did not. Instead, a middle-aged man and woman entered from a side door. In soiled clothes, they looked as if they had been interrupted in the midst of some menial task. The man bowed gracefully to Yim. “Welcome to my home, Karmamatus. I’m Yorn and this is my wife, Karyen. You’ve already met my daughter, Wenda. Your presence graces us, and I pray you’ll dine and stay the night.”
Yim returned Yorn’s bow. “Karm sees your generosity, and we’re grateful for your hospitality.”
Yim regarded their hosts and found them genteel, despite their worn clothes. Yorn had the olive complexion and the dark hair and eyes common to the people of the region. His wife was blue-eyed, with reddish blond hair and sunburnt skin that appeared to have once been very fair. Wenda favored her mother in looks, except for her dark eyes.
“You must be tired from your journey,” said Yorn. “Wenda will show you to your rooms, so you may refresh yourselves before dinner.”
Wenda bowed toward Yim. “Karmamatus, shall I take your pack?”
“No, thank you, Wenda. It’s mine to carry.”
Wenda bowed again, then led Yim and Honus past the stone stairs and through a doorway. The old house was an elegant structure, but it looked bare. They passed through several empty halls to a long corridor with doors on one side. Wenda opened one to reveal a bedroom.
“This is your chamber, Karmamatus. I’ll show your Sarf his room and bring water for you to wash.”
“Let him help you, Wenda. And please call me Yim.”
Yim set down her pack as Honus and Wenda left. She examined her room with interest. Whatever the household’s current fortunes, the chamber seemed luxurious. It featured a colorful tile floor, albeit a dusty one, and painted plaster walls. A large walnut bed had not only sheets and covers, but also a feather mattress. It was the first Yim had ever touched, and it seemed marvelously soft. Though the room was large, the bed was its only furnishing. There were hooks for wall hangings, but all that remained of these were darker rectangles on the faded paint. A glazed window looked out to a large courtyard, which contained the remnants of a formal garden. Part of it had gone to weed, and a vegetable patch had replaced the rest.
Yim sat in her room for a long while before Wenda and Honus returned. Honus bore two large ewers of warm water, and Wenda carried a large, empty basin with a washing cloth and towel. “I’m sorry it took so long to heat the water,” said Wenda. “But you’ll have time to wash and rest. I’ll come when dinner’s ready.”
After Wenda left, Yim grinned at Honus. “Is your room as nice as this?”
“They gave you the finest room, but mine is more than adequate.”
“Did you see the rest of the house? What’s going on here?”
“I saw the kitchen and the rooms between here and there. I’d say they’ve sold off most of their possessions. I think the only servant is an elderly cook. Wenda treats her like family.”
“The land looks rich, and these people seem respectable,” said Yim. “What has befallen them?”
“I’m not sure,” replied Honus. “Maybe we’ll find out at dinner.” He turned to go, then stopped. “Would you tell me when you’ve bathed?”
“Don’t you want to wash first?”
“No, this water is for you.”
“I’ll be quick,” Yim said.
“Don’t hurry. I’ll fetch the basin when you’re done.” Then Honus departed.
Yim stared at the steaming bath. It was but the latest example of Honus’s new solicitude. He seemed almost another person ever since they had left the inn. Yim thought she should find the change pleasant. Instead, it was disconcerting. She feared that Cara had been right and Honus’s behavior was a sign of love.
Love was something Yim knew little about. She never encountered it growing up. Her mother had died upon Yim’s birth, and her father had not been loving. Nor had her guardian. Sensing Yim’s otherness, the boys and girls in the village avoided her, denying her even gossip of love. Since the Wise Woman was a midwife, Yim had learned the facts of lovemaking, but the passions that spurred it remained a mystery. She had only a vague idea about them. Sometimes Yim doubted she was capable of such feelings, or if she was, capable of recognizing them. I wish Cara were here. She could tell me what’s going on. Yim had no confidence in her own impressions on the matter and wondered if she might be misreading Honus.
Despite Honus’s parting words, Yim washed hurriedly, so the bathwater was still warm when Honus carried out the basin. She thought he looked at her with fresh interest, as though they had not walked the entire day together. It was unsettling. Yim opened her window to let in the evening air and flopped down on the bed. As
Yim attempted to banish thoughts of Honus, she heard a young man’s voice in the courtyard. “…was a foolhardy risk, Wenda.”
“I looked. I didn’t see anybody.”
“Still, they could have been watching. There are lots of places to hide.”
“I’m tired of being afraid.”
“Then maybe you should…” The young man’s voice was cut off by the sound of a closing door, leaving Yim to wonder what frightened Wenda.
Dinner was served late. Wenda led Honus and Yim to the dining hall where Yorn and Karyen greeted them. They were dressed in worn but elegant clothes, as were Wenda and the three young men who sat at the table. These proved to be Wenda’s older brothers. They had names that, in accordance to local custom, sounded like their father’s. Yim immediately confused Vorn, Thorn, and Dorn, but she recognized the youngest brother’s voice as the one she had heard in the courtyard. A meal of roots, porridge, and cabbage was already on the table, but an elderly woman brought out a scrawny roast chicken after Yim was seated.
Yorn asked the woman who brought the chicken to take a seat at the table, but she shook her head and whispered, “Nay, sire. ’Twill na do.” Then she quickly retreated.
“Karmamatus,” said Yorn as he passed her the chicken, “we have no one to serve you this poor fare, so you must help yourself.”
Yim guessed the tiny chicken was a late addition to the menu and one that was dear to her hosts. “Please call me Yim and make no apology for this fine meal. Your kindness lends it extra savor.”
The meal, though plain, was as ample as any Yim had eaten, and her hosts were scrupulously polite. She sensed no insincerity in their good manners, but thought they masked an underlying tension. The dinner conversation was bland and conventional until Yim decided to ignore Honus’s advice about saying little to seem wise. “When I journeyed through Luvein, I slept on the ground and ate things that made even my Sarf grow pale. I don’t travel for pleasure. A Bearer’s task is to take on burdens.” She looked directly at Wenda. “Why were you so frightened at the door?”
Wenda looked hesitantly at her father, afraid to speak.
Yorn spoke for her. “Wenda is a nervous girl. She worries needlessly about…”
“She’s afraid of our neighbors,” interrupted the youngest son. “We all are.”
“Vorn!” said his father angrily.
“Why not tell her? After all, her visit may provoke them further.”
“I won’t be governed by fear!”
Vorn snorted at the statement. “What choice do you have? Look around, Father. Where are our farmhands and servants? Remember what happened to our crops? Who of us dares to walk alone?”
Yim looked at Yorn. “Your plight is all too common these days. Would you tell me your story?”
Yorn sighed as a man setting down a heavy load. “My family has lived here for generations, but Karyen is from Averen. Within the past few years, my neighbors have come to take offense at that.”
“Take offense!” said Wenda. “They turned on us! People who we thought were our friends.”
“Most do it out of fear,” said Yorn. “You must forgive them.”
“I detect the shadow of the Devourer,” said Yim.
“You’re right,” said Yorn. “Our troubles started with the arrival of his priests. They stirred up resentment and encouraged hatred. At first, only dregs and malcontents were attracted to them. But as time wore on, they gained more respectable converts. Now they have the sanction of the emperor. Who can say why someone embraces hate? Fear? Greed? Envy? Power? Perhaps it’s different for each person. Our neighbors began to call us ‘outlanders’ and worse. My son spoke true. We’re surrounded by hostility, and all our friends have fallen away.”
“An odious man comes and barters for our things,” said Wenda. “A tiny bag of seed for a silver candlestick.”
“What choice do we have, Wenda?” asked her mother. “We have to eat and na one else will deal with us.”
“I say he works for the priests,” said Vorn. “They’re looting us for themselves before they loose the mob.”
“Don’t upset your sister,” said Yorn.
“We think,” said Karyen, “that Wenda should go stay with my sister in Lurwic.”
“No!” said Honus so sharply that everyone was startled. Yim realized it was the first word he had uttered at the table. He bowed his head toward her. “Forgive me, Karmamatus.”
Yim guessed the proper reply. “You may speak.”
“Lord Bahl has overrun Lurwic,” said Honus. “It offers no refuge.”
This news came as a blow to the already dispirited family. Karyen began to weep softly. The food in Yim’s stomach turned leaden as she became aware the entire family was looking to her. Yorn spoke for all of them. “Karmamatus, what should we do?”
Honus’s eyes were also fixed on Yim. In the silent room, her quiet voice seemed loud. “I cannot tell you what to do. I can only give this advice—think upon what you love most.”
For a long while, no one ate, drank, or spoke. Everyone sat frozen in reflection—even Honus, whose eyes remained on Yim. At last, Yorn broke the stillness by gazing at each member of his family in turn. Then he spoke. “A house is but a pile of stones. We’ll leave it and go to Averen.”
After dinner, Yorn plied Honus with questions on how to effect his family’s escape, and they spoke at length. Although Honus’s long absence prevented him from advising on the state of the road, he knew much about traveling unnoticed. When he had imparted all he could, Yim rose from the table. Honus rose also and took a rush candle to light Yim’s way to her room.
“Honus,” said Yim when they reached her door, “are you angry with me?”
“Why should I be angry?”
“I took my pretense too far. Look what I’ve done! These people are leaving because of me.”
“As I recall, you said they should think upon what they loved most. That’s good advice for anyone.”
“But…”
“This house was a stone around their necks. It would’ve dragged them to their deaths. I’ve seen it before.”
“I’m glad you’re not angry. Well, good night.”
Yim entered her room and changed into her old tunic before blowing out the candle. Moonlight streamed in the window as she crawled into bed. As Yim sunk into the feather mattress, she tried to imagine how it would feel to abandon such comfort. How sad for them to trade all this for the hard ground and an uncertain fate. The family’s plight stirred thoughts of Luvein’s ruin. Is this how it began? Will someday folk like Gan and his mother live in the shell of this house?
At first, it was a dream. Cara was sobbing and bleeding while Yim tried to aid her. Yim woke, but the sobs persisted. A woman was weeping in the courtyard. Yim thought she must be Wenda, and with a pang of conscience, wondered if her advice was the cause of her sorrow. Yim lay in bed and waited to hear another’s voice offering solace. It seemed impossible that the girl’s parents had not heard the lamentation; it resounded so clearly.
Time passed, and the only sound Yim heard was weeping. It conveyed a depth of sorrow that seemed beyond the capacity of one so young. The sound became unbearable, and Yim felt compelled to act. She left her bed and went to the window. In the moonlight, she made out a white-robed figure upon a bench at the far side of the courtyard. The window was low to the ground, and Yim easily stepped over its sill. Once outside, she made her way to the sobbing figure. The setting moon cast a dim light, and only when Yim drew near could she tell that the woman was not a member of the household. Regardless, she approached the slumped figure, whose face was buried in her hands. The ground turned icy beneath Yim’s feet. Even before the woman looked up, Yim knew she was no mortal.
Yim recognized Karm immediately, though the goddess seldom appeared to her. The deity on the bench looked the same as always—except for one thing. Blood stained her white robe and dripped down her bare limbs. Is it her blood? The idea was alarming. Can the goddess bleed?
Karm gazed at Yim, her wet eyes glistening in the last of the moonlight. She appeared so grief stricken that Yim pitied her. Then the goddess’s expression changed into one even more unsettling. Karm regarded Yim in tearful supplication. Then the pleading goddess dissolved, and Yim was alone in the dark courtyard.
Yim shivered violently, chilled to her very bones. Immediately, the disorientation that followed every vision overwhelmed her. Staring at the empty bench, Yim wondered if she was slipping into madness. This vision was the most bizarre and incomprehensible yet. How could Karm be helpless? The very idea ran counter to divinity. What am I supposed to do? Karm had always given directions, even if Yim failed to understand them. This disturbing visitation told her nothing.
Insecurity gripped Yim and grew into panic. She felt abandoned, alone without guidance. The shadowy world seemed full of menace—a place where even the goddess was beyond comfort. Yim made her way back to her room, but she didn’t return to bed. Its emptiness felt too forbidding. Instead, she went to Honus’s chamber and shook him. He bolted upright, and Yim saw the gleam of his partly drawn sword before he froze. “Yim?”
Yim didn’t respond, but climbed under the covers and pressed her frigid body against his. “Hold me,” she whispered.
THIRTY-ONE
HONUS STIRRED and Yim woke. The soft mattress made a valley that pressed them together. She felt his breath and the damp warmness where their bodies touched. Night was giving way to dawn, and with the growing light, the terror that drove her to Honus faded. Yim felt his arm around her, and all she could think was What have I done?
Yim tried to slip out of bed, but Honus gently pulled her closer and whispered in her ear, “Good morning.”
“I must leave.”
“There’s no hurry.”
Yim pulled away and sat up with her back to Honus. “What if we’re found together? They’d think we’d been tupping.”
[Shadowed Path 01] - A Woman Worth Ten Coppers Page 23
