Daughter Of The Wind --Western Wind

by Sandra Elsa

The owner of the voice was discussing how profitable his recent buying trip to Swadan had been. He’d purchased many goods in Swadan and he rattled off a list then talked about how there were some strange new merchants with goods unlike any he’d seen before.

  When he spoke of purchasing a beautiful slave for half her previous owner’s cost. The chill that set deep in Pink’s bones had nothing to do with the nip in the morning air. Fear crawled over her skin, a near palpable sensation, and by Gordun‘s appraising glance it was obvious to those who saw her.

  The man laughed as he told his companion, “All I have to do is hunt her down. It shouldn‘t be a problem. I get around and know enough people. I should be able to find her; she has very distinctive hair, and wears a brand.”

  His companion sounded bored as he asked, “What’s so special about this one?”

  Pink risked a cautious glance over her shoulder. She recognized Garec, the tall, heavyset, blond merchant who had been the start of her problems at Mistress Henna's. He replied to his burly dark haired companion, “Wait ‘til I find her. You won’t have to ask that question. But there was just something about her. I don’t know...she stayed in my mind, long after I left Henna’s place. I’ve never felt such an attraction.” They were moving steadily closer. “There’s also the matter of Harner.”

  Pink froze. What did Garec know about Harner?

  The dark haired man grunted. “Huh…There’s a name I haven’t heard in a while. What’s he up to?”

  “Not a whole lot. That damn bitch, Henna, dared to tell me no, when I wanted to buy one of her pets. I sent Harner back to keep an eye on the girl and he disappeared.” Garec growled, “They all claim the last anybody saw of him, he was going after her. Next thing, she up and runs away.”

  The dark haired man laughed. “That sounds like Harner.”

  “Yeah. I thought so too, until I talked to the hunters who went after her. They swear her tracks made her out to be alone. There wasn‘t any trace of him at his home or at Henna‘s. He just vanished. The folks at Hallowisp weren’t exactly friendly when I asked about him, they know something, but nobody’s talking.”

  Relief and gratitude washed over her. Garec may have his suspicions but he had no proof. If Harner‘s horse was gone, somebody at Hallowisp had to know what happened to him. The huntsman must have found the body by now. Perhaps the bloody torn dress she’d hidden in her room, along with the word of the chambermaid that had seen her, were enough to convince Mistress Henna she had acted in self-defense. The small mountain community of Temn always had taken care of their own.

  Immensely glad of the scarf covering her copper curls, and the warm, bulky, overcoat Johann had loaned her, Pink paid what the butcher demanded, even though it was overpriced. Gordun’s eyes flicked from her, to Garec and his companion, but he said nothing.

  Pink’s hand shook as she tucked loose curls firmly under the scarf. With downcast eyes, she spun on her heel and brushed past Garec, moving swiftly to a market stall farther away.

  Every nerve screamed, “Run!” but that would only succeed in attracting attention. Glancing fearfully over her shoulder, she traded for a loaf of fresh baked bread and returned to Johann‘s house.

  She arrived home and rushed past the old man as he tended the gardens, turning the soil for the spring planting. He followed her in, hazel eyes examining her shrewdly. They darkened with concern.

  "What is it?” he asked. “You look like you've seen a ghost."

  Tears threatened to trickle down her cheeks as she said, "I wish it were a ghost.” She stopped, her throat thick with fear. With effort she continued. “In a way I suppose it is. You allowed me to stay the winter without asking questions, for that I’m grateful. Unfortunately the past is not willing to stay behind.”

  With great reluctance she began her tale. She sat on a dining room chair and gazed into the fire, afraid to meet his quiet stare. She hoped he would not be angry at harboring a murdering runaway slave for more than three months.

  "When I was eight, my stepfather sold me into slavery. An old herbalist from the outskirts of Temn purchased me at auction.” Pink rocked back and forth in the chair, hands clasped, hesitant to continue.

  A furtive sideways glance showed her Johann, nodding his head as though this fact did not surprise him at all. His easy acceptance brought the words tumbling from her.

  "When the herbalist died and her only surviving heir couldn’t pay his debts, I found myself with a new owner. I was twelve years old.”

  Pink wrung her hands. “Mistress Henna was kind, and I came to enjoy living there. There were many worse places I could have ended up.” She smiled, recalling for him, her Mistress’s ready praise, and the hours of free time she received every evening.

  "Since the herbalist died, replacing her became one of the many duties I performed for Mistress Henna. To this end the Mistress taught me to read and bought two books for me to study from." She paused and shook her head mournfully. "I regret leaving the books behind but they cost too much, they weren't mine to take."

  Johann gave her his full attention, but she could see a question in his eyes. She stopped speaking, giving him a chance to ask it. "I’ve known paid servants that were treated worse than it sounds you were. Why would you leave?" His voice was monotone. At least he did not sound angry.

  "A week and a half before I ran away, a merchant named Garec visited the farm, stopping for the night with his trade wagons. He noticed me and raved to Mistress Henna how I bewitched him with my, 'brilliant copper hair and sparkling brown eyes.' He became insistent that the Mistress sell me to him.” A shudder ran through her body at the memory.

  “Mistress Henna turned him down, but his rage was obvious. Everybody could tell he was used to getting his way."

  Johann busied himself setting plates on the table and pouring tea.

  Pink had not missed his start of recognition at Garec's name. “After making it clear he would be returning in three month's time, Garec left the following morning.”

  She stood from her chair and began pacing in front of the fire, staring at the floor. Still afraid to meet his gaze. “After he left, the whole world went crazy. I don’t understand it. I did nothing different. I didn’t change the way I dressed or put my hair up.” She looked at her fine boned reflection in the cottage window. “It seemed every male in the country was suddenly determined to possess me. I don’t think of myself as beautiful and the changes in the manner of men I’d considered friends, frightened me.”

  Inspecting her fingernails, digging imaginary dirt out from under them, she felt the blood rise in her cheeks.

  Only after a lengthy pause did she continue. "Even the Mistress eyed me from time to time. She seemed to be assessing the value of her property.” Pink’s fingers raked through her hair. “Mistress Henna runs many businesses in Temn—one of them is a bordello. If she deemed her merchandise to be worth more in the bordello than as a general servant; that would be where I went.”

  The heat of her embarrassment drained away leaving her pale and chilled as she contemplated confessing what she had done. “I thought my value as an herbalist might have outweighed what she’d have made from me in the bordello, and I had nearly convinced myself to stay around when Harner showed up.”

  “Harner?”

  “One of Garec’s friends, sent back to keep an eye on me.”

  Johann was listening closely.

  Her skin was ashen, her voice ragged. "He followed me into the woods while I was collecting herbs and mushrooms, and attacked me.”

  “He raped you?” Anger seethed in Johann’s voice.

  “He tried,“ Pink corrected. “I fought him off, knowing all the time I was signing my own death warrant by doing so. He wouldn’t leave me be. I grabbed the first thing that came to hand and swung it as hard as I could. He wouldn’t have dropped faster if I’d shot him with an arrow.”

  Johann grew pale. “You killed him?”

  She nodded, wrapping her fingers aroun
d the warm clay mug of tea.

  Johann let out a low whistle. “I rather had you figured to be the runaway they rode through looking for when you showed up in my gardens.” He shook his head from side to side. “They never claimed you were a murderer."

  For the first time since she’d begun her tale she dared to glance up and look Johann in the eye. The brightness she found there told her nothing. She quickly turned her gaze back to the polished floorboards. “It’s possible they never found his body. We were fairly deep in the woods when he came after me.” She would in no way allude to the possibility that the body had been found and the deed hidden.

  Johann cupped a hand under her chin, forcing her to look straight at him. “I don't care about your past. I don’t believe people should be allowed to make slaves of other people.” His eyes saddened. “Nor do I believe a man has the right to force himself on a woman, no matter what her social standing. The problem is--Garec calls this village home.”

  Releasing her, he turned towards the mantel over the fireplace and pointed at a beautiful statue there, “I bought that from him.” He turned toward other items in the room. “My plates are from Telgar. Not many traders venture into Telgar these days, but Garec does.” Johann’s shoulders lifted in a shrug, offering no hope. “Rumor has it he has connections among the nobles there. Some think that makes him a spy, but nobody‘s certain if he spies for Ronan or Telgar. Some folk even believe he deals information both ways.”

  How could her luck be so bad? “Why does he live here in this remote town if he travels so much?”

  Frowning, Johann said, “We may be small and remote, but Aldan is rather central to Swadan and Ronan’s capitals. It’s a good stopping place for him to layover between ventures.” Johann drooped, none of his usual cheerfulness remained. “He's often gone, buying and selling, but he always returns here. Sometimes he stays for a week, other times for months. He knows you're an escaped slave, even if he doesn’t know what happened to his friend. You would not be safe staying here.”

  Pink‘s chin dropped to her chest. “It‘s worse than that. From his conversation in the market, it seems he purchased me from Mistress Henna on his way back--knowing he would have to hunt me down.”

  Johann contemplated the dancing flames of the fire; for long moments he said nothing. When he spoke, she knew what the words would be. “You'll have to leave in the morning. The wheel has turned. Life does with us what it will.”

  Nodding agreement, tears glistening in her eyes, Pink turned to the distraction of cooking the chicken, but she was so preoccupied it was very well done and dry when they ate it. She lay down to sleep, but spent the night tossing fretfully. Johann rose several times as well, moving about the main room of the cottage.

  As the sun rose the next morning, a pounding on the door jolted Pink out of bed. Looking through the shutters of the window, she saw Garec. Fear gripped her as she hid in a corner of the small room she had passed the winter sleeping in. She listened closely as Johann opened the door.

  Chapter 5