The WayStation

by Michelle Bryan

  ***

  A light rapping on his room door brought a grin to the half man's face. About time. The blade had been a high price to pay, but it would be well worth it to see Glenalda again....and enjoy the bottle he’d requested as well. He pulled the door open in eager anticipation, only to stare in puzzlement at the wide eyed youngster who had served him his meal earlier. Where was Glenalda? The girl didn't wait for an invitation, her slight frame brushed past him into the dingy room.

  "Come in," Tater drawled sarcastically to the now empty doorway. He turned to find the young girl’s face void of any emotion. Maybe she, like the boy earlier, didn't have the capacity to understand sarcasm. She was very pleasant to look at but, like his dear mother would have said, maybe she was a few cards short of a full deck.

  Without a word she placed the whiskey bottle and glass she was carrying on the little table beside the bed. Pouring a drink, she approached him slowly. The hand holding the glass trembled slightly as she held it out to him, almost like a peace offering.

  "I'm afraid there has been some misunderstanding," he said kindly, though he didn't refuse the offering. "You are not Glenalda."

  Reaching behind him, she pulled the door shut and shook her head no.

  "Why are you here?" he asked.

  She looked terrified and her voice shook when she spoke.

  "Glenalda isn't here anymore. She's ....gone."

  He was truly disappointed to hear that. Glenalda was a fine woman...in every sense of the word.

  "Then surely there is another lady for this evening?"

  "They’re all busy right now. Rana says I am to be your companion for tonight." She said it with no emotion, but he saw the way her eyes darted about in fright. He stared at her in confusion. Surely she must be joking. She was but a mere child! Rana must be having a grand laugh at this. No, this would not do. Not at all. He would demand to have his blade back in the morning. Covering his anger and disappointment, he sipped the whiskey in his hand. May as well get some enjoyment out of the evening.

  He ambled over to the only chair in the room and plopped down, causing a cloud of dust to erupt into the air. Closing his eyes, he sighed deeply. This stop over was certainly turning out to be a bitter disappointment. Opening his eyes once again, he studied the amber liquid swirling in the cloudy glass for a moment before he downed it quickly. The liquid burned all the way down to his gut with a welcoming familiarity.

  "Another," he said, raising his glass and his eyes, only to intake his next breath sharply at the unexpected sight before him. While he’d been occupied with drink, the girl had let her dress drop to the floor and was standing in the middle of the room as naked as the day she was born. Shutting his gaping mouth with a snap, he said softly.

  "What are you doing, child? Put your dress back on."

  She looked confused.

  "I don't please you? You don’t like how I look?"

  "Oh dear me, no. No that is not the problem, what so ever. You are extremely pleasing to the eye....but a tad too young for my taste. Now be a dear, cover yourself and come refill my glass."

  She struggled with herself for a bit. Tater could see the inner battle raging inside as she weighed his words against what she had obviously been ordered to do. But finally she did as he asked. Tater wasn't sure if he imagined the look of relief on her face.

  Taking a sip of the now refilled whiskey, he motioned to the footrest at the end of his chair. She sat, hands folded demurely in her lap. The silence in the room was tangible as he studied her in the glow of the low lamplight.

  "What is your name?" he asked, breaking the awkward silence.

  It was a simple enough question, but it seemed to stump her.

  "My name? I guess it's....Girl now. Least that's what they all call me here."

  "Girl? That is no name. Surely you have a real name? You had parents that named you something. You had to have come from somewhere. I don't remember you being here on my last visit."

  She shook her head and clamped her red lips together, like she didn't want to say anything else. As if talking about it would be too painful. Tater understood that all too well.

  "How long have you been here, with Rana?"

  No answer.

  "How old are you?"

  She remained silent. She was a tough nut to crack.

  Acting on impulse, Tater reached toward her and she flinched, but he merely pretended to pull an iron coin out of her ear. A simple sleight of hand, but she gasped as if the gods had decided to come down from the heavens and show themselves to her.

  "Magic! You know magic?" She smiled for the first time, her face lighting up with childlike enthusiasm. It made her appear far younger than he had thought. "My pa used to do magic when I was little. He used to...." She stopped talking, as if suddenly remembering that those days were long gone. Her face fell and her eyes clouded over with unspeakable sadness. Tater's heart inexplicably ached for her lost innocence. He had seen far too much of that in this world. He tossed the coin to her and she caught it with a sad smile.

  "Your pa sounds like he’s a fine man. Where is he....and your mother?"

  At first he thought she was going to clam up again. But taking a shaky breath and looking quickly over both of her shoulders as if to ensure they were indeed alone, she surprisingly answered him.

  "Dead now. Both of them. The Prezedant's Army attacked our homestead....took us young'uns away. I was sold to Niles and Rana. I don't know what happened to the rest of my kin. I have been here one year, two months and 12 days." She looked up at him with her huge green eyes, shiny with the tears she refused to let fall. "It was my born day three days ago. I turned sixteen."

  Good gods almighty! So she had only been fourteen when she arrived and been forced into this line of work? Feeling the unexplainable urge to take her mind off of her dismal situation, he whispered softly, "Well then, happy born day," and pulled a coin from her other ear, tossing it to her. Her soft, tinkling laughter buoyed his dark mood as she caught that coin as well.

  "Well now, seems like I have truly paid for your services for the evening," he said with a smile.

  At his words she immediately stood up and fumbled with the ties on the front of her dress again.

  "What? No....stop that," Tater cried, and she looked back in puzzlement.

  "I do not require the services of your body, as lovely as your assets are. I merely wish to have the presence of your company this evening, nothing more. But if we are to spend time together I have to call you something. And I refuse to call you girl. What would you prefer for me to call you?"

  She hesitated at first, rubbing the coins nervously between her fingers. But then her answer was spoken softly.

  "My pa....he used to call me Duchess sometimes....cause he said I was pretty enough and smart enough to be a duchess of a grand house someday...." she trails off embarrassed, like she had said too much. Like she believed Tater was going to make fun of her words. But he merely smiled at this tidbit of information as he kicked off his worn boots.

  "Duchess it is then. Now, Duchess, how are your massage skills? For I have traveled an extraordinary distance and my feet and back are killing me."