Marri's Approach (Brackish Bay)

by Cerise Noble

  They walked away, while Dawn continued to hurl invective until I was too far over the bridge to hear them anymore. I bet she enjoyed that, Fortuna. I nodded at the people in the cart as I passed it on the way to the main buildings on the island. If all went according to plan, Petunia would take Dawn back out of the outpost, while Carol and Zarilla would get lost in it.

  In the meantime, Fortuna, I need somewhere to hide. I walked away from the shore, admiring the fishermen and their fine, sculpted muscles gleaming in the brilliant sunlight. It wouldn't do to be recognized by the textile artist or the rest of her family, so I stayed on the opposite side, heading in the general direction of the main house. Nearly there, I saw a woman hanging clothes on a line. She wore white, and I was reminded of what Sarafina had said about Jessica's death.

  Fortuna, I never did find out—was Jessica the queen William had mentioned? It wouldn't do to be ignorant. Still, I couldn't help loitering a little longer. Her hair was long and straight, blowing out behind her a bit in the wind. I paused and watched her bend and stretch, her body lithe. It made me smile to imagine her naked. I could see a sort of banked fire in the way she moved, as if this mundane chore were far too tame for her.

  She turned around and stared at me. I froze, my brain unable to formulate a response.

  “What are you doing there? Get your ass over here and make yourself useful.”

  “Yes, madam.” I trotted up to her and began to copy her movements, hanging clothing on the line.

  “Rari usually trains hers better than to stand about when there's work to be done.” Her tone was acidic.

  “Yes, madam. I'm sorry, I was mesmerized.”

  She snorted. “Don't try to flatter me.”

  “It's true.”

  “Thank you.” The acid hadn't receded, and I wasn't sure if she was being sarcastic. I decided to merely keep my mouth shut. After a while, the basket was empty, and she picked it up. “Who were you coming to see?”

  “Gerard.”

  She tipped her head at me and raised an eyebrow. “Gerard isn't here. He went to Rari's place.”

  Ah, Fortuna, you're a slimy toad changeling.

  “Did he? I—must have missed him.” She grinned now, feral and dangerous. I involuntarily backed up a step. “I'd best be getting back, then.”

  She laughed. “Oh? So soon? I thought you'd like to come in and meet with Roy. Don't you know? He's the governor of this House, of this island, and all of the land surrounding on either side of the river. I'm sure he'd like to listen to all your suggestions, Marri.”

  I swallowed hard. This one I can't blame on you, Fortuna. I bet William spilled the beans, the old bastard.

  “I'm sure he would like to hear my suggestions. It would be my—great honor. As soon as I have compiled all of them. I have to visit each part of his holdings, first, of course.”

  With each word I was backing away, but she followed me, her eyes dancing. I reached for my daggers, and then caught myself. It would definitely not do to harm one of Roy's slaves. Not at all. I backed farther, noting the chain collar and numbered padlock on her throat, and the chain belt.

  She held out her arms. “I've seen that look before. Do you want to cut me?”

  And suddenly, inexplicably, I did. The wanting surged through my belly and ignited my loins as I saw the predatory smile shift to sensual, and the scars crisscrossing her skin gave me the scope of her desire.

  “Gods. I—” I swallowed hard, releasing the handles of the daggers, spreading my hands apart. “No. I don't want to hurt you. I want—I want to—”

  I grabbed her shoulders and yanked her to me, kissing her hard on the mouth, biting her lips, and then I was where I needed to be. I spun her, releasing her so she lost her balance and fell into a stand of reeds near the water, and then I was off, running towards the far side of the island. Her outrage echoed around me. Great, Fortuna, just what I needed. A woman scorned.

  I ducked into a cellar and hid behind a stand of shelves where a neat corner had been formed. It had likely held a barrel or something of similar size, so I fit quite nicely. Of course, I was also trapped, but I figured night would be the best time for my escape. All I needed was to remain undetected until then.

  I hate waiting, Fortuna.

  Chapter 4

  I found myself drifting as I waited. The damp earth was cooler in the cellar, and my skin prickled with the strange temperature. I leaned against the wall and shivered. I couldn't smell much of the preserved foods in jars, nor could I see what they were through the opaque clay, but I could smell the loose food in barrels, the onions and potatoes, the carrots and apples, the oranges and pears, dried berries, jerky, and salted meats. It was enough to remind me that I hadn't eaten since the morning. Still, I dared not move. No one had seen me duck into the cellar, but I still had to escape detection when someone came down for food for supper. Inspiration struck, and I wiggled out to find a loose sack. There, Fortuna. Now I'm a bag of rice tucked in the corner. It wasn't the best of disguises, but it was better than nothing.

  The day dragged by. Every so often I would hear shouts or raised voices, but no one thought to check the cellar. Thank you (for once), Fortuna.

  As the light began to fade, the door banged open, and I heard footsteps descending, then a giggle.

  “Not here, sir. What would Lauren say?”

  “Lauren will say, Nanette, what took you so long? If you don't hurry up, you'll get a spanking.”

  She gasped. “No, sir, please, I'm so sore.”

  There was a grunt and a sharp intake of breath, then a soft fumbling sound.

  “Then be a good little slave and open up for me.”

  “Yes, sir!” Another grunt slid into a moan. “Please, sir!”

  “Please, what, little slave? Fuck your asshole?”

  “Oh, yes, sir, just please, oh!”

  There was a breathy, panting, rhythmic sigh. I felt my own cunt start to ripen and drip. Gods, how long has it been, Fortuna? Way too long. I need a man as of last week.

  “Good girl, Nanette.”

  She whimpered, and my cunt clenched. Fortuna, you are a tease! I wondered how obvious it would be if I pressed fingers to my aching clit. Hmmm. Probably best not to move at all. If something I did interrupted their fucking, thwarted desire was a sure-fire way to get the harshest sentence available. So I remained stone still, barely breathing, listening to the soft slap of his hips on her ass and the rapidity of her breath. I could just imagine the picture. I couldn't help it; I peeked.

  It was glorious. Her big breasts were spilling out of the loose fabric of her dress, and her creamy ass was spread and gripped in his rough, tanned hands. She held onto a sturdy shelf in the corner, her eyes closed and her unevenly chopped blonde hair flopping with each thrust. She moaned, her back arched and her cunt unsuccessfully pressed towards him for greater pleasure. His overalls were tangled around his boots, and his chest was broad, muscular, and incredibly yummy. Fortuna, if you have the chance, would you mind delivering that one to my bed? I bit my lip at the sight of his cock ramming into her little asshole, and clamped down on a shudder. I could smell her arousal. But he didn't let her come.

  What a jerk, Fortuna! Instead, when he finished grunting and spending inside her, he pulled out and washed with a cloth he must have brought with him. He wiped her off, then pulled her up to standing.

  “Good little slave. I enjoyed that. If you do well helping Lauren this evening, you'll get more tonight.”

  His face was so stern and handsome, I wanted to bite him, but hers was soft and lush. She had wide eyes with trembling lashes, and soft lips that ached to be kissed. I hummed sub-vocally.

  He didn't kiss her. He turned and left, leaving her to pull herself back together both physically—oh, Fortuna, would you look at those breasts?—and mentally. She seemed disconcerted, off balance. Then she took a deep breath and began to gather the jars and loose items she must have been requested to bring, piling them into a basket by the stairs. I noticed
she wore the same sort of collar the other woman in white had worn—a chain with a numbered padlock.

  I wondered what her story was. Still, their interlude gave me fodder for thought during the empty time until it was full dark, and I found myself pressing my knuckles hard against my lips, rocking them against my clit until I could feel the wetness damping the inside of the leather.

  Finally—finally!—it was dark. I crept towards the stairs and listened. Nothing but the rushing of the wind. Nanette had closed the cellar door when she left, and I had a moment of panic that it was locked, but it turned out not to be. I pushed it open, a millimeter at a time, until the wind caught it, and it slammed it open. I leapt into the darkness at the sound, running until I was hidden by a copse of trees. Just in time. My heart beat against my ribs as I watched a guard run over, weapon in hand, to inspect the cellar. Would they have shot me on sight?

  I waited, leaning on a sticky evergreen trunk, for my heart to slow down while I forced my breath to steady. Did they see me? I wasn't sure, but I didn't want to take the chance. I slipped around, my steps light and silent, even here, even in the dark, even in the unknown woods. I smiled. Thank Mother for me, Fortuna. I really do need to write to her.

  Once I was past the trees, I crouched, then crawled through the reeds. There had to be a boat somewhere. I saw the dock in the distance—too far, and there were people around it, too many lights. Surely there was a little boat somewhere? I was near despairing when I saw it. Fortuna, when I die and see your face, I'm going to kiss you.

  It was a small rowboat, just big enough for one or two people, and there were oars in it. It hadn't been moved in months, I could tell, and there was a harpoon in the bottom of it. Clever. I looked around. Here, crocodile, crocodile, crocodile. Come to Marri and let her warm you by the fire. Snorting at my own fancy, I untied the boat and pushed off. The oars made slappy, lapping sounds, but the river was louder in going around the rocks at the head of the island, so I felt safe in remaining unheard. It was difficult rowing crosswise to the current, but I didn't feel like having to spend a day walking back to the camp, so I struggled with the oars. My arms burned and my hands began to hurt, the wood rough with disuse. I began to whisper my poem to myself, the one my mother used to sing to me, the one that had been the source of my comfort in every trying time in my life.

  It wasn't personal.

  O, Fortuna,

  like the moon

  you are changeable,

  ever waxing

  and waning;

  hateful life

  first oppresses

  and then soothes

  as fancy takes it…

  I grunted in time with the beat of the words, imagining, as I did, that they spilled out of my mouth like ink, swirling around my arms from hand to hand, wrapping down my torso and spiraling around my legs from foot to foot, spinning back up to settle, calmly, around my throat.

  Fate – monstrous

  and empty,

  you whirling wheel,

  you are malevolent,

  well-being is vain

  and always fades to nothing,

  shadowed

  and veiled

  you plague me, too;

  now through the game

  I bring my bare back

  to your villainy.

  I glanced at the sky, the full moon and the clouds moving over it, the choppy water around me as I forced the oars through the waves again and again and again, not daring to rest lest I be swept along.

  Why am I bothering, Fortuna? Maybe it would be better if I just forgot this whole charade, if I just went on to another city, if I hired on in their guard and fucked all their rough soldiers.

  Fate is against me

  in health

  and virtue,

  driven on

  and weighted down,

  always enslaved.

  So at this hour

  without delay

  pluck the vibrating strings;

  since Fate

  strikes down the strong man,

  everyone weep with me!

  Always enslaved? No, Fortuna, I am better than that. Even as a slave, I saved Aluet from a hostile takeover. No matter how you beat me down, I am stronger than most.

  It was with that burst of adrenaline that I reached the far bank. Pulling the little boat up onto the rocks as far as I could, I slipped and fell. Exhausted and uncoordinated, the fall took the rest of my rapidly waning energy.

  I thought I should find a spot closer to the camp and farther from the boat. But then I also risked getting hurt on the way. I climbed a tree and settled in for the remainder of the night.

  Daylight slapped me in the face, and I winced, scrubbing at my gritty eyes. It was hotter than normal, sweltering, and it wasn't even close to noon. Fortuna, you're a hot whore. I leaned against the tree, trying to go back to sleep. Of course, with the sun beating down on me, it wasn't possible. After a time, I sighed and prepared to climb down the tree. I paused. Something wasn't quite right. I froze, my sleepy brain suddenly on high alert. What was it?

  I scanned the forest for threats. No humans in either direction. No dogs, either. No snakes that I could see or hear, though some of them were silent. No wolves.

  There. A bear. A great, hulking black bear. I swallowed hard. I was in a tree. Black bears climb trees. I breathed slowly, trying to remember what my mother said. There weren't as many of them as there used to be. They were not adapted to the intense heat, and it didn't get cold enough for them to hibernate anymore, so they lived reduced life spans, cranky and anxious. Mostly they did not attack humans, but a lone human? I suppose it depended on how hungry the bear was.

  Fortuna? Should I try to threaten it, or hope it loses interest on its own? I took a deep breath. I could probably run faster than it, but I wasn't sure how quickly it could get to me. Would I be able to get out of the tree fast enough?

  It made a mumbling sound, and I grunted back. It squeaked, and I began to laugh. That startled it, and it drew back a little, snuffling the air. Forget it, Fortuna; I'm not staying here to converse with a bear. I leapt down from the tree and began to run towards the camp.

  For a little while the bear lumbered after me, but apparently it decided it would be easier to pursue a less-fleet meal, and after that, I didn't hear it anymore. I gradually slowed to a lope, resting my aching muscles with the easier pace.

  When I reached the camp it was deserted. Gods be damned, Fortuna. I was really hoping I would have a meal waiting. I sighed and began to gather wood for the fire.

  The fish in the little stream nearby were tiny little minnows that weren't worth the trouble to try to catch, so I consoled myself with the last bit of the potatoes we'd dug the other day. I would need to find more food, since I was the first back. But first, sleep. I curled up near the little fire, and it was there that they found me.

  I woke to the feel of a whiskered nose pressing against my back. I flinched, then suddenly came to full alertness. My eyes flew open. There, across the fire, two men stood. The dappled light obscured their features, but it was certain I didn't recognize them. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and the sniffing nose resolved into a dog. A hound. A hunting dog. Ah, dammit, Fortuna. I started to push myself up, very slowly, making no sudden moves, when a voice behind me dropped me to the dirt again.

  “Be still.”

  I felt cold chills running down my spine. Not only did I not recognize the voice, but in the brief glance I'd gotten, I didn't recognize the armor the men wore, either.

  Fortuna, I think these men are not citizens of Brackish Bay.

  The voice behind me spoke again. “What's a woman doing out here camping all alone?”

  Thank you, Fortuna, that we clean up our camp every time we leave. I don't think they know there are more than me.

  “I was kicked out of my tribe. I'm on my way to Brackish Bay.”

  “Tribe?”

  “Horsemen.” Please don't call my bluff; please don't call my
bluff.

  “You don't look like a horsewoman. They wouldn't be caught dead wearing pants, or a vest with no shirt.”

  I looked appropriately ashamed. “I know. It was so awful! They took my clothes. It was a kind hunter who took pity on me and gave me something to cover my shameful nakedness!” I tried to call up tears, but damn, Fortuna, that doesn't come easily.

  “So why didn't the hunter claim you? Or is he around here?”

  The men across the fire shifted warily.

  I shook my head. “He was eaten by a bear.”

  “A bear?”

  I nodded, getting into the story. “It was a great, hulking black bear. It growled, and he shot it, but it didn't kill the bear, so it ran at him, and raked him and bit him and ate him!” This time I managed to squeeze out a tear.

  The voice scoffed. “You didn't get hurt.”

  I let myself leach even more shame into my voice. “I ran away. I'm a god-cursed coward.”

  “Come here.”

  The man behind me yanked me to my feet even as I pretended to sob into my hands. I swiped at my mostly dry eyes—misdirection is everything, Fortuna—and let myself be a dead weight. He shook me.

  “Stand up.”

  “I'm sorry, I'm just so—so—”

  “Shut up.”

  He spun me around to face him and slapped me across the face. It was all I could do not to squirm with pleasure. Instead, I hunched into myself, pretending to be cowed.

  My voice dropped to a hoarse whisper. “I'm sorry.”

  He gave me a firm shake. “Do as we say and you'll live.”

  I nodded, pitiful. “Yes, sir.”

  “Come.”

  The men across from me kicked mud onto the fire, then turned to lead the way into the woods, away from Brackish Bay. Fortuna, you're a harpy.

  It wasn't until some hours later, most of which included me stumbling and being prodded along, that we reached a larger camp. No, Fortuna, of course I'm not going to waste my skill doing something that I don't need to. There's no need to be swift and silent when you're already caught. I gulped as we came closer. It was a large camp, not as big as General Tell's full force, but certainly as large as one of her skirmish armies. I balked.