She sincerely hoped not.
They turned the corner at Tee-Ri’s bunk, where her mother sat staring at Waeh-Loh. In the bunk above her, Tee-Ri’s friend Carmen was mending Tee-Ri’s blanket for her.
“What have you done now, Waeh-Loh?” her mother asked as they passed.
The accusation stung Waeh-Loh and her lower lip quivered, but she did not reply nor did she cry. She just walked past without saying a word.
I’m trying to be disciplined, father, but it’s so difficult.
“Whatever it is they’re going to do to you,” her mother added, “you probably deserve it.”
Waeh-Loh slowed her step at that remark, but the barbarian behind her shoved her into motion again. She glared back at Tee-Ri once and then put her out of her thoughts.
They were approaching the staircase leading to Mistress Affliction’s quarters. Past them was one of the doors out of the dormitory. If they went out the door, Waeh-Loh was as good as dead. If they took the stairs, it meant that she still had a chance.
To her surprise, she wasn’t sure which she wanted. Her apathy appalled her. Had she been broken so quickly? Had it only taken, what, six months to break her spirit?
She stood up straighter, squared her shoulders. She would not let them crush her. If they took her outside, she would run the moment she cleared the door. She’d kick the first barbarian in the groin and then punch the second one in the face, and she’d run off into the night. Maybe they’d catch her, maybe they wouldn’t, but at least she would make her father proud.
The time for decision was approaching. They had to commit to the stairs or the doors any moment now. Waeh-Loh’s arms tensed. Her breathing accelerated.
The moment arrived. Now the barbarians would decide their fate.
They turned towards the stairs.
“Up there,” one of them said.
* * *
Mistress Affliction was the highest ranking member of the Yuldrassi Clan, which itself was the lowest of the three clans.
The Ildrassi Clan was the clan of leaders and nobility. The Warlord Rackal was of the Ildrassi Clan. To be a member of this clan, one either had to be born in it … or had to slay an existing member, a task that was more difficult than it might at first seem. The Ildrassi were highly-educated, cunning, and capable of great subtly as well as acts of outrageous cruelty.
The Ildrassi Clan consisted entirely of men.
Beneath the Ildrassi Clan was the Dudrassi Clan, the clan of warriors. The massive armies that had taken Ignis Fatuus were almost entirely composed of members of the Dudrassi Clan. They were barbarians, fierce berserkers. They were undisciplined and savage, obeying only the orders of the Ildrassi, which they followed without question, and their own indoctrinated blood lust.
The Dudrassi Clan consisted entirely of men.
At last, there was the Yuldrassi Clan, the underclass. It was the class to which all women belonged, the men who were too stupid or too weak to fight, the laborers, the builders, and any human captives. Elves, such as Waeh-Loh and her mother, had no clan at all. They were beneath such matters.
Mistress Affliction, Aflishia, had therefore climbed as high as she could ever reach. Waeh-Loh, a princess, was very conscious of that as she entered Mistress Affliction’s chambers.
* * *
Mistress Affliction’s chambers were ideal for a woman who eschewed clothing. Everywhere she looked, Waeh-Loh saw something smooth, rounded, plush, or padded. It was, putting it simply, the softest, most comfortable room she had ever been in.
The room was lit by numerous paper lanterns suspended from hooks around the periphery. The flames cast flickering pastel light about the room in gentle overlapping pools, illuminating soft, round chairs and the hanging silken curtains that divided the room into sections.
“Come in, Werloh,” said Mistress Affliction, sprawled naked in one of the soft, globular chairs. Her smile was deceptively kind; a treachery that Waeh-Loh had learned to watch carefully early on. The only thing more dangerous than Affliction’s frowns were her smiles.
The shirtless barbarians led Waeh-Loh through the room until they stood before Mistress Affliction. One of the barbarians prodded Waeh-Loh’s back, and she stepped forward.
Mistress Affliction’s eyes roamed along Waeh-Loh’s body as though taking inventory. Then she eased herself from her chair, walked forward, and grabbed Waeh-Loh’s face by her chin.
“Fair condition,” Mistress Affliction muttered, turning Waeh-Loh’s head this way and that. It did not seem to be an invitation to speak, so Waeh-Loh remained silent.
“How have you been feeling, Werloh?”
“I have been feeling well, Mistress Afflic…”—she caught herself just in time—“…shia.”
Mistress Affliction’s smile faltered for a moment, and Waeh-Loh inhaled sharply. But the moment passed, and Affliction’s smile returned.
“Have you been sick recently?”
“No, Mistress Aflishia.”
“Open your mouth.”
Waeh-Loh hesitated, puzzled, and Mistress Affliction pried her mouth apart without asking again. She peered inside, poking and prodding.
“Does this hurt, Werloh?”
“Nuh, ussus ahictia.”
“How about this?”
“Nuh, ussus ahictia.”
Mistress Affliction released Waeh-Loh, who closed her mouth.
“Excellent,” said Mistress Affliction. “Very good, Werloh.”
Indignation, probably very unwise indignation at that, boiled up in Waeh-Loh. She fought it for a moment, and then lost.
“That’s not my name, Mistress Aflishia.”
Affliction’s smile faltered again. Waeh-Loh readied herself for punishment.
“No?” Affliction glanced at the two barbarians behind Waeh-Loh. The human woman’s face was growing so pale as to approach an elf’s complexion. “You aren’t Werloh, virginal daughter of King Kral-Sus?”
Her voice shook ever so slightly. It was the first time that Waeh-Loh had seen one of the barbarians—and a high-ranking one at that!—afraid. A wave of hope washed over her. Sure, her situation was dire, but she had seen a chink in the armor, and if there was one, there would be others.
Waeh-Loh smiled.
“I am the daughter of King Kral-Sus,” she said. “But my name is Waeh-Loh, not Werloh.”
Affliction’s smile faltered even further. It was almost non-existent.
“Very well,” she said, her voice perfunctory. “But you are virginal, yes?”
Waeh-Loh chuckled. “That’s personal, Mistress Aflishia.”
Affliction frowned.
Uh oh. Waeh-Loh spun to defend herself against the two men, but she never made it all the way around. A fist pounded into her lower back, and all her breath exploded from her lungs. She fell to her knees.
“Are you a virgin, Waeh-Loh?”
Waeh-Loh fought to regain her breath, collapsed to all fours, her arms weak and shaking.
“Again,” Mistress Affliction said.
Waeh-Loh tried to protest, but could find no breath with which to speak. One of the men grabbed her by the armpits and lifted her upright. The other one glanced at Mistress Affliction, who nodded. He drove his fist into her belly.
Waeh-Loh’s knees buckled, and the barbarian who was holding her released her. She dropped to the floor.
“Ah,” said Mistress Affliction, her voice lifting an octave and her smile returning. “This is so unpleasant. Wouldn’t it be better if you just answered my question? “
Waeh-Loh remained curled in a ball, trying to regain her breath. Part of her wanted to continue to fight, for her own dignity if not for that of her father and her family, but the pain and the fear were too much for her. She couldn’t speak, so she nodded her head.
“That’s so much better,” Mistress Affliction said. “Gentlemen, please help Werloh to her feet.”
Rough hands under her armpits yanked her unceremoniously to her feet. When the barbarian began to release
her, her knees buckled, so he continued to support her.
“Now,” said Mistress Affliction. “Are you virginal? You may nod or shake your head if you are unable to speak.”
Warmth spread in Waeh-Loh’s cheeks, but she dared not defy Affliction any longer. She nodded.
“Oh, I’m so glad,” said Mistress Affliction, beaming, and Waeh-Loh was almost delighted despite herself. “I have such good news for you, Werloh.”
“W … W … Waeh-Loh, Mistress Aflishia” Waeh-Loh said.
Again, the smile faltered, but Affliction pushed on.
“You’ve no doubt wondered why you were exempt from the lessons in the Pleasure Palace. Perhaps you took it as a sign of disfavor?”
Mistress Affliction seemed to be expecting an answer, so Waeh-Loh hazarded a guess as to what the correct response was.
“Yes, Mistress Aflishia?” she said.
“Well, Werl … Waeh-Loh, nothing could be further from the truth.” She indicated a round chair similar to the one she had been sitting on, and said, “Please, have a seat. You may undress if you like.”
Mistress Affliction sat and looked at Waeh-Loh expectantly.
Waeh-Loh was trapped. She didn’t want to undress, certainly not in front of the two men, but on the other hand, she didn’t dare insult Mistress Affliction any further.
“May I … may I roll up my sleeves, Mistress Aflishia?” she said.
Waeh-Loh monitored Affliction’s smile. It didn’t falter.
“Of course, Waeh-Loh. Whatever makes you comfortable.”
“Thank you, Mistress Aflishia,” Waeh-Loh said. She rolled up her sleeves as far as she could, and then sat down in the chair next to the human. “This is a very comfortable chair, Mistress Aflishia. Thank you for letting me sit in it.”
Mistress Affliction waved the compliment away.
“As I mentioned, I have very good news for you. Now we’ve known all along that it was a possibility, but I’ve just received confirmation from Ignis Fatuus!”
Affliction seemed to be waiting for Waeh-Loh to say something, but the tiny part of her that remained defiant kept her silent. Mistress Affliction’s smile weakened once more, but then was restored to an even greater glory.
“Waeh-Loh, Warlord Rackal has selected you to be his bride!”
“Wha-what?” Waeh-Loh said, the blood draining from her face and hands. She felt dizzy, and she was glad she was sitting down.
Mistress Affliction’s smile seemed to loom ever larger in Waeh-Loh’s field of vision. She nodded her head.
“You heard me correctly: the Warlord himself has chosen you to be his bride and the mother of his heirs!”
“Marry? The Warlord?” Waeh-Loh couldn’t wrap her mind around it. It was too foreign a thought, too big. “But … but … but I’m too young.”
Mistress Affliction chuckled. “Under Elven law, perhaps, but not under Kardic law. Don’t worry, there’s nothing preventing you from marrying him. You should be very happy, Waeh-Loh. Being the Warlord’s wife will give you a level of comfort and status unmatched by any other woman in the entire empire. Congratulations!”
Mistress Affliction put a gentle hand along the side of Waeh-Loh’s face. Her skin was a soft as butter.
“Do I … do I … I mean, is it …?”
“Is it what, Waeh-Loh?”
“Am I required to marry him, Mistress Aflishia?”
The smile vanished, but at least Affliction didn’t frown.
“Waeh-Loh, this is quite an honor being bestowed to you. Women all over the empire would kill to be selected as his bride.” Affliction’s eyes narrowed to mere points. “I know that I would.”
Then suddenly the smile returned. “But of course, the choice is yours, Waeh-Loh. Marriage is not something that can be imposed on a woman. She must choose it of her own free will. So that being said, what do you choose, Waeh-Loh?”
Waeh-Loh’s heart pounded in her chest. Her breath came in ragged gasps, and she fought to control it. When at last, she had regained some measure of evenness to her breathing, she looked up and met Mistress Affliction’s eyes.
“Then I choose not to marry him,” Waeh-Loh said.
“Very well, Waeh-Loh,” Mistress Affliction said, her smile unchanged. “That’s entirely your choice, as I said. But please let me know if you change your mind.”
Relief flooded through Waeh-Loh at this unexpected reprieve.
“Yes, Mistress Aflishia. I will. Thank you, Mistress Aflishia!”
Mistress Affliction shook her head kindly.
“Think nothing of it, Waeh-Loh,” she said. Then, to the two men in front of them, she added, “Beat her.”
“What?” Waeh-Loh said, which was all she had time for. Suddenly, two pairs of rough hands grabbed Waeh-Loh and threw her to the floor.
“Wait!” she cried, but it was to no avail. A torrent of kicks and punches rained upon her from all directions, splitting her lip, stunning her.
Waeh-Loh tried to cry out for them to stop, but the blows kept assaulting her from all sides. Her breath was driven from her, a ragged gash bled from her arm, a blow near her eye made her see stars.
She curled into a ball, tried to retreat into the floor, anything to make the pain stop. A kick to the back of her head made her cry out. Another to her spine half-paralyzed her and she flopped on the floor like a dying fish. Her fingers wiggled as though she were playing a stringed instrument and her teeth chattered.
“So, Waeh-Loh,” Mistress Affliction said, “have you changed your mind yet?”
Chapter 79
Married to the Warlord. It seemed too horrible to contemplate. The idea of being wed to that … that man, that monster who had destroyed her father and his kingdom, why it was beyond perverse. It was obscene.
Still, it had some short-term benefits. She and her mother now had their own private rooms, and since the moment when Waeh-Loh had broken down and agreed to the marriage, neither of them had been beaten again.
Now Waeh-Loh was staring in the mirror at her bruised face. Even after three days, the purple and yellow splotches hadn’t completely faded. Her lips curled in disgust at her wrecked visage, but she continued brushing her hair as she had been instructed. Five hundred strokes of the brush every night and every morning.
Everything had to be perfect for her wedding, so she had been told. It all seemed farcical to her. According to Elven customs, she wouldn’t be eligible for marriage for sixty years.
She was approaching the end of the count, when something astonishing happened.
Her reflection spoke to her.
It said: “Hello, Willow.”
Waeh-Loh gave a hoarse croak and the brush clattered to the floor.
“Don’t be scared, Willow. It’s me, Tamlevar.” The reflection imitated every expression and nuance of Waeh-Loh’s face, yet its mouth moved in time with its words.
“Tamlevar? How are you in my mirror?”
“I don’t have time to explain that right now. I’m weakening, Willow. I may not live much longer.”
This was news to Waeh-Loh. He hadn’t looked well on the ship to Kardán, but he hadn’t looked that ill.
“Why? What’s wrong?”
“Again, I don’t have time to explain. You won’t be seeing much more of me. I have to pick the times I appear to you very carefully. But the good news is I think I’ve found a way to save you.”
Did she dare hope? “You can stop the wedding?”
“Wedding? What wedding? No, not that. You’re going to have to go through it all by yourself, but at the end of it, I’ll be able to save you.”
Waeh-Loh blinked and stared at the mirror.
“You’ve found a way to help me,” she said, “but you won’t be able to stop anything bad from happening to me. How exactly is that helping me?”
Her reflection chuckled weakly.
“I know it doesn’t seem to make sense, Willow, but it does. You’re going to have to trust me on this. You’re in greater danger than you can unde
rstand, and that’s what I think I can help you with. So be strong, and trust me: you will survive. I promise. We’ll see each other again when you return to Bryanae.”
Bryanae? Where in the world was that? She’d never heard of it, let alone been there. How could she possibly return to a place to which she’d never been?
Tamlevar’s words sounded as though they came from a tremendous distance, across a void, and they were fading quickly.
“Wait!” she said. “Before you go, please tell me why you’re helping me.”
“Because I love you,” her reflection said. “And because I failed you when you needed me most.”
Her reflection was silent from then on.
Chapter 80
One moment, Waeh-Loh was staring at her reflection, which had just stopped speaking to her. The next moment, time hiccupped.
She had decided that she had to escape, that under no circumstances would she allow herself to be wed to the man who had destroyed her home. She would escape, but she would wait until she returned to Ignis Fatuus—and she knew that she would return there, just as she had known that she would kill the barbarian with the droopy mustache. If she escaped now, she would be alone in a foreign land where everyone was her enemy and she would stand out. But if she waited until she had returned home …
So she had decided, but then everything seemed to lurch forward. Events zipped by at a dizzying speed, as though a weird burlesque were being performed before her eyes, with a cast that included everybody she knew. She woke up, went to bed, ate, had conversations … all of her day-to-day activities, but at a maniacal pace. Yet nothing was omitted or skipped: everything happened, and in the correct order, too, but to Waeh-Loh, it was as though the gods had grown impatient with her story and were flipping through the pages of her life to get to the interesting bits.
Perhaps it had something to do with Tamlevar. Indeed, the effect was very much like what had happened on her voyage to Kardán. Whatever the cause, her life galloped out of control while she became merely a spectator.
Brushing her hair, consuming bland food, urinating in the frigid outhouse, strained conversations with her mother, lessons from Mistress Affliction on the duties of an Ildrassi’s wife. Women in the dormitory arrived, women in the dormitory died. Tears. Anguish. Many more beatings, though none for her or her mother.
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