[Shadowed Path 01] - A Woman Worth Ten Coppers

by Morgan Howell

  “The honor would be all mine,” replied Yim.

  “Then, it’s done,” said Commodus. “Honus, have you just arrived in Bremven? How did you get past the guards?”

  “We rode in a wagon and weren’t troubled. Why do you ask? Are Karm’s devotees now unwelcome here?”

  “Sarfs make Morvus nervous after…You do know what has happened?”

  “I’ve visited the temple and tranced there,” said Honus.

  “Tranced? There?”

  “Yes,” replied Honus in a cold, hard voice. “I know all.” For just an instant, his face betrayed the wrath that Yim had witnessed at the temple.

  Commodus caught the look and grew pale. “What will you do?” he asked in a hushed voice.

  Honus glanced toward Yim. “Yim carried my pack up Temple Mount this morning despite an injury. I’m sure she’s tired. We shouldn’t neglect her needs while we talk.”

  Commodus caught the hint. “Where are my manners?” he said to Yim. “You’re weary and I’m gabbing. You must think poorly of my hospitality.”

  “Of course not, sire.”

  “Oh, no ‘sire’ for me. ‘Commodus’ will do just fine. You’re family now.” He rang a bell, and a servant entered from a side door. “Jev, this is Yim. She’s my new ward. Treat her as my daughter. She’s tired from her journey and in need of rest. Give her the garden bedroom and have Gurdy tend her.”

  Yim knew she was being sent away, however graciously. “Honus…”

  He turned to gaze at her. Though he fought to keep his expression neutral, Yim could see turmoil in his eyes. Sensing his inner struggle, she was tempted to probe him and discover its nature. However, she decided not to try in front of Commodus.

  Honus approached Yim and delicately stroked her cheek, which was still gritty with ash. “After all you’ve been through, you deserve some peace.” He bent toward her, and for a moment, Yim thought he would kiss her. Instead, he abruptly turned away.

  “Are you ready, Mistress?” asked Jev.

  “I guess so.”

  Still, Yim hesitated, feeling she should say something to Honus. He had walked over to the window and was staring out of it, his back to her. She had the impression that he had just said farewell, yet she was at a loss as to how to reply. The presence of strangers made it all the more difficult. In the end, she simply followed Jev from the room.

  As Jev led the way down a long corridor, Yim was conscious of the curiosity behind his formality. She knew she was being judged, though she had little idea by what standards. The corridor turned and led to a row of beautifully carved doors. Jev opened one to reveal a large room with a window that overlooked a walled garden. It reminded Yim of her room at Yorn’s manor, though it was far more opulent.

  “Perhaps Mistress would care for refreshments and a bath.”

  Yim looked down at her legs and sandaled feet. They were blackened from sitting near the pyre. “Just a bath,” she said, somewhat embarrassed. “I’ve already eaten.”

  “I’ll see that Gurdy attends to it.”

  “Thank you.”

  Jev bowed and departed. Left alone, Yim explored the room with wonder. By the window were several walnut chairs featuring delicately carved birds and flowers. A huge bed with a soft feather mattress was carved in the same manner. Upon the bed was a fluffy comforter beneath an embroidered coverlet. Yim walked over to the window to admire its view of the garden, still lovely despite the spring bloom having peaked. The walls of the room were covered with tapestries that depicted the same garden in different seasons. Yim was examining a huge bureau inlaid with mother-of-pearl when someone knocked on the door.

  “Mistress,” said a woman’s voice, “your bath is ready. Shall I bring it in?”

  “Please.”

  The door opened and a young woman entered lugging a big copper tub. She was followed by five men bearing large ewers filled with steaming water. The woman set the tub down and removed some articles from it before the men filled it with water. The men departed, but the woman remained. She bowed toward Yim. “I’m Gurdy, Mistress. I’ll attend you.” She was neatly dressed in a tan tunic that ended just above her knees. Gurdy appeared about Yim’s age and her plain, but pleasant face featured the light complexion, blue eyes, and sandy hair more common among folk from Averen than Bremven.

  Gurdy dropped flower petals into the bathwater and stirred them with her hand. The rising steam carried their fragrance throughout the room. After drying her hand on her tunic, she knelt before Yim and began to unfasten her sandals.

  “What are you doing?” asked Yim.

  “Undressing you for your bath, Mistress.”

  “I can do that myself.”

  “Yes, Mistress.” Gurdy rose and stepped back, but didn’t leave the room.

  “Why are you still here?”

  “To bathe you, Mistress.”

  “Bathe me? I’ll bathe myself. You can go.”

  Gurdy started to leave, then stopped, obviously distressed. When she spoke, she stared nervously at the floor. “Have I done something wrong? Are you displeased with me?”

  “No, why?”

  “If you’re not displeased with me, why don’t you want me?”

  Yim looked at the distraught woman and had an unsettling realization. “You’re a slave, aren’t you?”

  “I’m your slave, Mistress.”

  “I don’t want a slave. I was a…a…I’m unaccustomed to being served.”

  “But all fine ladies have slaves,” said Gurdy. “Please, give me a chance.”

  “You want to be my slave?”

  “I’ve always wanted to be a lady’s slave. Even though I’m a house slave, I know about serving a mistress. I’ve helped attend ladies before. Just try me, Mistress. Please.”

  Gurdy’s plea left Yim perplexed and uncomfortable. If I don’t accept her, she’ll still be a slave. I’ll be doing her no favor by sending her away. Yet the thought of having a slave went against Yim’s grain. Meanwhile, the cause of her quandary had assumed an expression of abject humility as she silently awaited her answer. “I’m not a lady,” Yim said at last.

  “But you are! Jev said you’re Master’s ward and we’re to treat you like Lady Jobella, Master’s own daughter.”

  Yim looked Gurdy in the eye and quickly read her earnestness. She sighed. “So serving me would make you happy?”

  Gurdy’s face brightened. “Oh yes, Mistress.”

  “Then you may, but you must call me Yim.”

  “Oh, I couldn’t do that! People would think me rude. They’d be angry with me and think less of you.”

  Yim sighed again. “There seems to be a lot of rules about being a lady.”

  “You’re new to Bremven, but I can help you, Mistress.”

  “I’d be grateful if you did,” said Yim. She undressed and stepped into the warm, scented water.

  “Would you like me to wash your back?” asked Gurdy.

  “Sure, that would be fine.”

  Gurdy grabbed some soap and a washing cloth as Yim leaned forward. Gurdy gasped when she saw Yim’s back. “Mistress! You’re injured!”

  “Didn’t you know I traveled with a Sarf? Our journey was hard and dangerous. An arrow did that.”

  Gurdy gently washed around the stitched-up wound. “Then, surely the goddess has rewarded your suffering by making you a fine lady.”

  Yim didn’t respond, for she was struggling not to cry. The day’s traumatic events had finally overwhelmed her. She was distraught without fully understanding why. In her heart, Yim didn’t believe the goddess had rewarded her. Instead, she feared that she was about to face another trial.

  Gurdy sensed Yim’s distress and began to massage her soapy back. “You’ll be happy here, Mistress, I know it. Master Commodus is a good man. Everyone is kind, and you’ll lack for nothing. Don’t worry about your wound. I’ll fetch a healer. You needn’t worry at all. I’ll take care of everything.”

  “And what do you get in return? How can serving me make
you happy?”

  “I’ll get to live your life. I’ll attend you at feasts and eat fine foods. I’ll accompany you on travels and see the sights. I’ll sleep in the comfort of your room. Don’t worry about me, Mistress. I’m happier washing your back than scrubbing floors.”

  “Don’t be so certain that living my life will be pleasant. I haven’t found it so.”

  “But your life has changed.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  In her despondency, Yim became passive. She submitted to Gurdy’s ministrations and allowed the girl to wash her and to dry her also. Afterward, Gurdy tucked her into bed while she went to get clean clothes. Yim lay upon the soft mattress, convinced that she couldn’t possibly rest, and quickly fell asleep.

  THIRTY-NINE

  YIM WOKE in the early afternoon, and for a moment she was unsure where she was. Then she remembered that her journey was over. The luxurious bed she lay upon was her bed, and the young woman sitting by the window was happy to serve her. Sleep had revived her spirits, and the future no longer seemed so bleak. Her vision at Karvakken Pass had steeled her against sights of slaughter, so while the events at the ravaged temple saddened her, she wasn’t shaken to the core. Already, their terror had faded, making Gurdy’s comforting words seem more probable. Perhaps the goddess has rewarded me, and in this peaceful place I’ll fulfill my destiny.

  Yim envisioned what that destiny might be, imagining the child that she would bear restoring the temple and guiding people back to harmony. The more Yim thought upon this version of the future, the more she believed it. Everything fit neatly. That’s why I was Honus’s slave, so he could bring me here to safety. Having fulfilled his function, Honus had freed her. Soon he would depart. Yim regretted not having said something when she left him with Commodus. She planned to make amends at dinner.

  Gurdy rose as soon as she saw Yim was awake. “Mistress, I have clean clothes. They’re Lady Jobella’s, but you’ll soon have your own.” She laid a selection of robes upon the bed. Yim had never seen such rich fabrics. They seemed too fine for everyday wear, and she wondered about Gurdy’s judgment. Yim selected the plainest garment of the lot—a simple, white sleeveless robe. Even this garment was made of some marvelously smooth and supple material.

  As Yim put it on, she asked Gurdy, “What cloth is this?”

  “It’s spun from moth cocoons, Mistress. It comes from far away.”

  “And Lady Jobella wears things like this for everyday?”

  “Master is a cloth merchant. All his family wear the finest clothes. He says it’s good for business. When I serve you at feasts, even I will wear a fine robe,” said Gurdy with evident delight.

  Yim was disconcerted by how the robe clung to her body. “You don’t think it’s too revealing?”

  Gurdy smiled. “I can see you’re new to Bremven, Mistress. If you wore such a robe to a feast, you’d be called prudish.” She tied a white silk girdle around Yim’s waist and then brought Yim’s sandals, which had been cleaned and oiled. “Master Dommus wanted to know when you wakened, Mistress. Should I tell him?”

  “Master Dommus? Who’s he?”

  “Why, Master Commodus’s son. He wishes to welcome you. Will you see him?”

  “Yes,” said Yim. “Of course.”

  After Gurdy departed, Yim regarded her attire with growing embarrassment. The length of the robe was modest enough; it reached halfway down her shins. The square neckline was decorous also. However, her nipples plainly showed through the clingy fabric. Yim thought of changing, but a rapid examination of the other robes affirmed that she was wearing the most modest garment of the lot. How will I ever get used to such a life? She was still pondering that question when she heard a knock.

  “Yim, may I come in?” asked a masculine voice.

  “Yes, please.”

  A man in his late twenties opened the door and smiled pleasantly as he bowed. Dommus’s dark features were more finely formed than his father’s, but he had the same broad forehead and large, intelligent eyes. It was a handsome face. “Welcome to our family,” he said.

  Yim returned Dommus’s bow. “Thank you.”

  “So much has happened, you must feel dizzy.”

  Yim flashed a wry smile. “This day’s been most confusing.”

  “It’s brought surprises to us all,” said Dommus. He smiled again. “For me, you’re the most pleasant one.”

  Yim blushed as Dommus’s eyes passed boldly over her body. “I’m glad,” she replied a little stiffly.

  Dommus appeared amused by her embarrassment. “I know you’re new to Bremven, but not much more. Father told me little, other than you traveled with Honus. Were you with him long?”

  “Ever since we met at Durkin.” Yim noted that surprise briefly crossed Dommus’s face. “We journeyed through Luvein to get here.”

  “That’s no easy road. Nor do I imagine Honus was an easy traveling companion.”

  “He’s not altogether what he seems.”

  “Neither are you, I suspect.”

  “And what do you suspect?”

  Dommus laughed. “A forthright question.”

  “Which you’re evading.”

  “You’re lovely, but I suspect you’re much tougher than you look. You’re certainly direct.”

  “I don’t mean to be ill-mannered.”

  “Don’t worry. We’re merchants here, not courtiers. Plain speaking is the rule in this house.”

  “I’m glad to hear it. I’ve a friend who said that’s not the case in Bremven.”

  “I fear your friend’s right, but that’s not true within these walls.”

  “Then Honus has brought me to a haven.”

  “He has. If you’d like, I’ll show it to you.”

  “I’d like that very much. If I’m to follow your trade, I’ve much to learn. I want to be useful.”

  “You will,” said Dommus. “We all work here. My sister’s away on a buying trip, and I’ve recently returned with a caravan. If you don’t wish to travel, there’s much to do right here.”

  “I certainly hope I’ll be suited for something.”

  “Father said you’re a peddler’s daughter, so trading must run in your blood.”

  “I’m afraid I learned little about selling and buying. I spent most of my time gathering herbs and herding goats.”

  “You’ll do fine. Father’s a patient teacher, and I’d be pleased to instruct you also.”

  “Your kindness is more than I merit.”

  “Father would disagree. He was devoted to Theodus, and Honus was like Theodus’s son. Father would do anything for him.”

  “So I’ve done nothing to earn my good fortune.”

  “That’s untrue,” replied Dommus. “You earned Honus’s respect. I heard you even saved his life.”

  “Honus said that?”

  “That’s what Father told me. You seem surprised.”

  “I thought Honus didn’t know.”

  Dommus looked puzzled. “Why would you conceal your bravery?”

  “I had my reasons. I thought you were going to show me around.”

  Dommus bowed, though a smile fought with his formality. “I’d be most honored.”

  Yim’s tour began in the building’s lower level, where she discovered that Commodus and his household lived above a bustling commercial compound as large as any manor. There were stables to accommodate animals for caravans, a shop for housing and maintaining wagons, a garrison of guards, a countinghouse, and numerous storerooms. As Dommus led Yim around, it became apparent that he was on easy terms with everyone who worked there. The workers seemed like part of a close-knit family, and whenever Yim was introduced, they already knew about her arrival.

  Dommus lingered longest in the storerooms, for he clearly loved the merchandise he sold. He communicated some of that passion to Yim as he pulled bolt after bolt of material from the shelves for her to touch and admire. After showing her a room full of exquisite brocades, he ended his tour in a huge room
piled high with bales of dingy white cloth. “I don’t want you to think we only deal in luxury goods,” he said. “We clothe everyone. Most of the field slaves in Vinden wear tunics made from our cloth.”

  Yim fingered the coarse, flimsy fabric and recalled the tunic in which she had been sold. “This seems hardly fit for clothing.”

  “It’s poor stuff, but it sells. It’s cheap, and that’s what they want.”

  “You mean the slave owners.”

  “They’re the customers.”

  Yim reflected a moment. “When I work here, will I have money of my own?”

  Dommus grinned. “I can see you’re a merchant’s daughter after all.”

  “Well, will I? Money that I earn myself?”

  “Why is that important?”

  “I want to free Gurdy and pay her to serve me.”

  “That seems a roundabout way of doing things. She already serves you.”

  “But she’s not free.”

  “So? Jev says she’s overjoyed to serve you.”

  “Suppose it’s a hot day and she wishes to swim in the river, she’d have to ask my permission.”

  “And I imagine you’d give it.”

  “But she’d have to ask,” said Yim, “and that makes all the difference.”

  “Maybe it did to you, but Gurdy doesn’t mind being a slave.”

  Yim looked at Dommus sharply. “What do you mean by that? What did your father tell you?”

  “He said nothing about your slavery. You revealed that yourself by saying you met Honus in Durkin. There, women are either thieves or slaves, and I’m sure you’re not a thief.”

  Yim flushed red. “Now that you know, am I still welcome in your family? Perhaps it would be better if I merely worked for you.”

  “It makes no difference that you were a slave,” said Dommus. “Slavery can befall anyone. There’s no shame in it.”

  “Tell that to a slave!”

  “Yim, most of the people here are slaves. Don’t look so shocked. We treat them well. You’ve seen that for yourself. If we hadn’t bought Gurdy as a child, she might be laboring on a treadmill or bedding her master against her will. Slavery’s a fact of life, whether you like it or not.”

  “That doesn’t make it right.”