Tara stared after her until Reena closed herself in her bedroom. Turning into the living room, she began straightening the room as two things dawned on her. Reena was Gothman. This was her home and these her people. Tara would be smart not to insult their ways. But also, Reena had struck out on a more personal level. Was it a broken heart? Had some man not stuck around to give her a nice home and children? Had it been so bad that no other man would claim her?
Tara washed the dishes and made the beds. As she straightened the rooms, it dawned on her that she really liked the mundane tasks. She also wanted to cheer Reena up. She was Tara’s only Gothman connection. Tara hadn’t meant to strike a nerve.
Reena was surprised when she came out of the bathroom and saw the condition of her house. “Goodness me, child. You’re mighty full of hidden talents for a Runner. And just look at you in that dress? You’re more stunning than any lass I’ve seen in this town. It will be his Lord himself taking a notice in you.”
“His Lord?” Tara frowned as she studied the pattern of the quilt folded over the couch.
The stories around the fires about the Lord of Gothman were not good. He was a monster, cruel to the bone with no heart or soul. He didn’t fight with honor but instead trained his men to kill and destroy. He had no desire to learn from others, and as a result, kept his people in the dark about the rest of Nuworld. And women! Don’t even get her started on the stories she’d heard of how he treated women. Tara kept her thoughts to herself and waited to hear what Reena would say.
“Oh yes, my dear. The Bryton house has ruled Gothman since the winters of my grandmama. They’ve always been quite powerful, and each generation has added land to our nation. Lord Jovis Bryton ruled for over forty winters. He passed on last spring and his son, Darius, is now lord.”
Tara followed Reena to the small bedroom Joli had occupied and listened as she continued. It was smart to learn all she could before going into town.
“Lord Jovis’ eldest son, Juro, was to rule next, but shortly after his papa’s death Juro drowned in the river to the east. Darius was next in line, and so now he rules.” Reena pulled the sheet from the bed, and paused, lowering her voice to a whisper as she met Tara’s gaze. “It was murder, were the rumors, although just rumors, mind you. Not one would stand up to Darius and challenge him, I know that much. He’s a ruthless warrior they say, although he keeps Gothman peaceful and happy. The stories from the old warriors say he still has much to learn, however.”
Tara didn’t try to hide her smile. If last night’s attempt to capture her was any indication of the man’s abilities, then he definitely had a lot to learn.
“This is quiet talk, child hear me, not to be muttered outside this home, even as gossip. Lord Darius will not hear a word spoken about his dead brother. He’s powerful, and many stand behind him.”
Reena hurried out of the room without another word.
Tara followed with her arms full of the used sheets and blankets, dropping them in the basket that Reena indicated.
“Oh to think, an old lady’s memory should always be checked.” She chuckled to herself. “I put the apple pie for the Lord’s family in the oven while you were showering. I’ll be struck down if it’s cooked a moment beyond perfection.”
Reena pulled the pie out of the oven. It filled the room with a wonderfully enticing smell. Tara felt a twinge of hunger when she breathed in the scent of the sweet apples.
“Some fat added to those bones will make you look more Gothman.” Reena pulled a plate of sweet rolls from the overlarge breadbox on the counter.
Tara and Reena enjoyed honey rolls for breakfast, washed down with fresh cool milk. Then Reena washed the sheets used the night before. Tara marvelled at the antiquated machine that vibrated to an off-rhythm beat as it spun the sheets around and around. Most things in Reena’s household consisted of basic domestic items; the type of things Tara had heard were used in Gothman. But then there were mysteries like the coffee, and no man when all females were given claims. The main thing Tara had learned was that Gothman women relied on their men to provide for them, yet Reena was somehow providing for herself.
Tara made herself useful and went out to chop firewood while Reena worked on laundry. Extra fuel would be needed to help keep the house warm as the nights grew cooler. She stacked the logs in a pile alongside the house, then sat on the front open room to nurse some scrapes. “It’ll take some time to get accustomed to this light material you have me wearing,” Tara admitted as Reena applied a salve to one of her scratches.
“It’ll be easier for you if you accept the women’s chores and leave the men’s chores to the men. But I have a feeling you will do what you want.” Reena smiled. “You might as well make me aware of the other talents you possess before we go to town. Do you sew? Have you done any quilting? The Gothman do not take well to strangers, but they welcome family with open arms. Announcing you as my niece will help you in town.”
“Well, I’ve—”
“You can obviously keep a house and you’re good with the children, but the women socialize over their chores. We’ll go to town and stop at the market to pick up a few necessaries. The women folk’ll be there doing the same after they’ve taken their sons to school. It’s a social time for us, and the gossip’s usually good and plenty. You do like gossip, don’t you?”
“I’m not much—” Tara gave up trying to talk when it appeared pointless. Reena didn’t seem interested in her answers.
“On Saturday mornings we meet for a quilting session. If you can partake, I’ll announce your presence for this Saturday. It will send quite the talk through the town.” Reena was more intent on Tara being the way Reena wanted her to be. “I enjoy good gossip, I do. And you, my dear, will put a mark on Gothman that won’t soon be forgotten. I can feel it in my bones.” Reena paused and looked at Tara. “So, what is it we shall say you can do?”
“Well,” Tara began, then waited for the interruption. When none came, she continued. “If you’re talking about the blanket thrown over the back of your couch, I’ve never seen one like it before. I’m a quick learner, though.”
“Hmm, it won’t do for you to be a novice quilter. Not at your advanced age. The gossip’ll fly on that one faster than the news of your being here. You’ll offer to watch the young ones while the rest of us quilt. I dare say that’ll work. I’ll try to teach you on the side, ah, that will do, yes it will.”
Tara wrapped the pie in a cloth and placed it in a wooden basket. Reena scurried from room to room preparing for their trip to town. The old woman chatted the entire time, obviously excited about introducing Tara to the women of the town. Slowly the couch filled with items to take into town—the pie for his Lord, stacks of quilting patterns, some clothes left behind by a previous pregnant lady that Reena had washed and needed to return. And last of all, a sweater made from a rough yarn Tara didn’t recognize, which Reena packed for Tara in case she got cold. Tara found herself leaning against the counter in an effort to stay out of the way.
Her laser had slipped while chopping wood. Tara hoped she wouldn’t be doing anything that strenuous in town. But she needed to be prepared. Besides, hiking her dress up to get her laser, now that she thought about it, would bring her even more trouble around Gothman men. She took advantage of Reena being busy and slipped it into her dress pocket.
They placed the basket containing the pie in the backseat of Reena’s groundmobile—an old rusty two door with black interior. Tara had never been in one before, and grinned like a child when, unable to resist, she reached inside and turned the steering wheel one way then the other.
“Stop that,” Reena scolded her when she came out of the house.
“Sorry.” But Tara continued grinning.
When the groundmobile hesitated to start, Tara volunteered to check under the hood and hurried to get her black gloves from her Runner clothing inside before checking the motor.
Reena yelled from the driver’s seat. “The cable to the battery is more
than likely loose.”
Tara stared at the motor in disbelief. If only Patha could see this! Once, he had shown her sketches of an ancient motor. But to think Gothman had recreated them and used them daily. Maybe this race had a bit more intelligence than she gave them credit for having. Although if they did, they wouldn’t be using such relics.
“Okay, try it now.” Tara grinned again when the groundmobile lit to life, sputtering and shaking enough to send birds flying from the trees.
The gravel road leading away from Reena’s house was uneven and tree branches overhead made it feel as if they drove through a tunnel. Tara noticed when they reached a stone paved road that one would have to know specifically where the road to Reena’s house was, or they would never find it.
The morning air was crisp, and Tara appreciated the knitted sweater Reena had given her before they left. She enjoyed the sweet smell of the pines and the variety of birds singing their morning songs. The road caught her attention as well. Flattened rocks, more than likely from the surrounding hills, varied in color, making it as unique as the people who had created it.
It didn’t take long to reach Bryton. Reena told Tara that once it was known as Smithton, in honor of the Smith lords who had ruled for winters. Now Bryon’s ruled Gothman. As long as Reena had lived the town had been called Bryton.
Merchants’ stores soon appeared on either side of the street. The town itself was surrounded by rocky hills providing natural protection. Most of the buildings were made of the same white stone as the hills around it.
Tara noticed a large residence on a hillside. Built at the opposite end of town from where she was riding, it was high enough to be visible above Bryton. Even from a distance, Tara could tell that it was very large. The thought of a stationary house, one that never moved and remained in the same place for the lifetime of a person, would be hard to believe if she weren’t staring at it. She’d go crazy staying in the same place all of her life.
“Lord Darius lives there with his mama and youngest brother, who is still a child. The lord has another brother, Mikel, who is Lord Darius’ advisor. Mikel and his claim live in Bryton with their children,” Reena explained.
Reena stopped her groundmobile alongside other groundmobiles at the edge of the street. Mamas and their daughters were everywhere. The women stood in small groups, chatting, while small children ran up and down a hard stone path in front of the stores.
Tara slowly opened the door and stood, taking in her surroundings. Reena seemed oblivious to the reaction Tara caused. But Tara tensed when women and children whispered and stared at her with obvious curiosity. Reena held her head high, as if proud, and gestured for Tara to follow.
“We’ll go into the grocery store first. It’s run by the Olgoods, an old family. Once we introduce you to them, I daresay the whole community will get word of your being here. They’ll all know who Reena’s niece is before the day is out.” Reena walked with purpose toward double doors propped open with polished tree stumps.
A plump older woman standing behind the counter looked up and smiled when the two women entered. “Ah, Reena, it’s nice to see you.”
A short man with gray whiskers and a potbelly remained sitting on his stool next to where the woman stood. “And who might this young lass be?” He looked Tara over as if she were a side of beef he might purchase.
“Thelga, it’s good to see you. And Garg, you’re looking well.” Reena nodded her head to the couple. “I’d like you to meet my niece, Tara. She’s come to stay with me just this other day. I daresay she’s quite a bit of help to an old lady.”
“What a comfort for a woman with no children, yes” Thelga said, clasping her hands over her large girth. “I daresay you’ll have her claimed before the week is out. She’s quite the looker.”
Garg grunted and got up. He walked toward the back of the store without saying goodbye.
“I know she is.” Reena winked, apparently not daunted by Garg’s departure. “Her Papa’s a mite bit picky though, if you ask me. But who asks an old lady? Turned down a claim already. She’s his only daughter, you see. So, now she’s with me.” Reena clucked to herself and moved toward the fresh produce. She took a basket from a stack by the door and handed it to Tara.
Tara wandered past barrels of produce as she followed Reena, and watched with curiosity as the older woman poked and sniffed, pinched and shook each vegetable before selecting what she wanted. Evidently, it was quite a task for Reena to find food items that suited her needs, but finally she seemed satisfied with her choices, paid for the items, and nodded as she led them out the door.
“Well now, that’s done,” Reena said as she chuckled to herself. “Thelga’ll be quite busy letting the town folk know of your arrival. I swear to you now that half the town will come down with some ailment or another just to come see old Reena’s niece.” She laughed out loud and wrapped her arm around Tara’s. “You did mighty fine in the store. Now I need to pick up some more yarn. Sirlah Maken’s shop is just up the street. I’ll be going in alone. It won’t do to have them noticing your lack of seamstress skills. It’ll be there that I tell them you’ll help with the young ones at the quilting. I’ll point out we have enough quilters and too many wee ones. It will make sense. You wander around, if you like.”
Reena left Tara on the sidewalk and hurried down the street.
Tara was amused by how much Reena was enjoying herself. Left alone, she walked the opposite direction looking into each store window. She hoped she appeared shy and submissive when she glanced tentatively at anyone who looked her way.
These were the women she’d wondered so much about. They lived a life of domesticity, completely oblivious to anything outside their daily routine. They grew up, anxiously waiting to be claimed, then fell into a role of servitude and inconsequential gossip. So far, she wasn’t too impressed. How did these women go through life with no say in matters that involved them? How were they complete inside when they needed a man simply to exist?
Tara passed a gap between two of the stores. It was wide enough for a groundmobile to move between them. The tall buildings cast shadows, and she guessed this wasn’t a place where the townsfolk walked. It was full of trash in barrels and the smell reflected that fact, along with flying insects hovering over the bins.
Several kids were at the other end of the alley, and she stopped to watch them. Young boys, appearing to be hiding, clung to the shadows. Tara guessed they had sneaked out of school. A smile played on her face when she spotted several more children enter the dark road behind the first group.
“There they are!” one of the boys yelled.
She slipped easily enough behind a large trashcan and squatted unnoticed as she continued to watch the boys.
“You’ll be dealing with me now.” A large boy of thirteen or fourteen winters walked with confidence toward the group Tara had first noticed. “Let’s see if you can fight, Torgo.” He was almost twice the size of the younger boy he had singled out.
The younger boy didn’t seem to have any fighting skills. He backed awkwardly down the alley. The other kids spread away from him, hope of escape obvious in their faces.
“Don’t be telling me we have a coward here?” The large boy laughed, lunging at the younger one as he feigned a punch. “It couldn’t be.”
Torgo turned and made an attempt to run, but he was easily overtaken and thrown to the ground. He tried yelling but the older boy sat on him and put one hand over Torgo’s mouth. Then he started hitting Torgo. “Not only can you not fight, you would cry like a baby for help?” The large boy laughed again while the other boys stood around watching.
Tara removed the small laser from her dress pocket and shot at a trashcan next to the group of boys. The metal can sliced in two. Pieces flew down the alley in opposite directions. Its lid slammed against the wall. It made a horrific sound, the noise echoing off the buildings, which intensified the clatter.
The frightened boys jumped and scattered down the side street. Tor
go tried to get up and run, but fell back to the ground. Tara stood from where she had hid and walked over to the scared and bruised boy.
“You know, boy, often if you act like you’re willing to take a challenge, a bully will back down,” Tara said, doing her best to sound Gothman. “Let me see you now.” She held up his face and looked at the scratches that were starting to bleed. “It’ll be hard to explain how you got those while studying in school.” She smiled at the child.
He smiled back cautiously. “How did you do that?” Torgo sputtered.
“I’m not rightly sure. I threw a rock. I was trying to hit the boy that was pounding you. That trash can had to be rotted clear through.” Tara rolled her eyes and the young boy laughed. She hoped no one inspected the destroyed can too closely.
His laughter stopped suddenly as he looked past Tara toward the sidewalk.
Tara turned and saw a man sitting on a motorcycle, watching. Blond curls fell to his shirt. His expression was impossible to read. Dark, penetrating gray eyes stared at her, and he didn’t blink once. He looked rugged, distracting, but more than that. He was captivating. The man shifted his attention to the boy, then looked at Tara again with a bit more interest.
By the size of the motorcycle he was straddling, the man was fairly tall. He wore a dark plaid shirt with a brown leather jacket over it. The jacket was unbuttoned and stretched across a broad, muscular chest. There was a crest embroidered on the sleeve of his jacket and another matching crest on his bike.
“They challenged me. What was I to do?” Torgo leapt away from Tara and stood as tall as his young body would allow. He didn’t have any problem getting to his feet this time.
“Back to school with you. We’ll talk about this later.” The words were barely out of the man’s mouth before the boy took off running as fast as his legs would take him.
Tara stood silently, continuing to watch the man when he studied her. The boy was his son, and she would never allow herself to show interest in a married man, or claimed man as the Gothman called it, but it was hard to look away. After so long, she was finally standing face to face with a Gothman warrior, and a gorgeous one at that.
Nuworld: Claiming Tara Page 4