“Of course.” They discussed payment and came to terms on those. They would leave in the morning.
Avia returned to the Inn and found their room empty. The innkeeper told her the boy politely had asked him to tell his grandma that he had gone to the blacksmith. Then she got the same directions he had given Putt. She followed them and found Putt by a blacksmith two levels up in the village. Avia could not help thinking about the house under the shop; if they were bothered at all having this on their roof. Putt stood there, watching, as the hammer in the firm hand hit the anvil and the wrought iron with the color of a ripe cherry on it, forging it into a tool. He jumped in surprise when he found Avia right behind him. They watched the robust man’s work in silence for a while.
“You said grandpa was a smith.” It took her a second or two to get who he was talking about. Since Inkus had died before Putt was born she had never thought of him as a grandfather.
“He was.”
“Did he make swords?”
“No. He was an excellent blacksmith, an honor to his craft, but he never learned the art of making a blade other than simple knives.”
“So, your swords are not made by grandpa?”
“Not even my knife.” It would have been nice if it was, but she needed a weapon, not a tool for carving wood. To use a knife for hunting and combat demanded other things from the blade than her dear husband had been capable of.
“Those making weapons are few. It takes many years to learn from a master. Even if it’s not as charming, there is always need for a toolmaker. And safer in many aspects.” Avia thought of who it was who wanted weapons, apart from high lords and such who often employed a sword-maker of their own. Not all of them were nice. And not if it turned out they were using the same smith as someone they did not like. Inkus had never been threatened by his customers. It had been a safe life. Maybe it was not that strange their daughter had married a farmer after all. She had a sheltered childhood in their home, far away from the dangers her mother was exposed to when she was on missions.
“So, what happens if you go as an apprentice and you never learn to make a proper sword?”
“Well, then it’s the master’s duty to release you from your apprenticeship and have you on your way to do something else with your life.”
“How will anybody know I can’t make swords? What if I tell someone I can?” Avia pulled up her sleeve on her left arm. There was a circle of white skin with a pattern inside. An old brand, a burn mark, put there deliberately.
“There are a few professions who guard their quality. Warriors are one. This one I got when my master considered me sufficiently educated. Sword-makers are another. They give you a brand too. That means no one can pose as a sword-maker or warrior and give the profession a bad reputation.”
“Did it hurt?” She saw Putt’s now pale face. Seconds ago, his cheeks had been rosy from standing by the heat of the fire. She showed him a fifty years old scar from a burn mark, and he felt bad about it?
“As a warrior, you learn to handle pain.” Something in the boy’s terror made her spit out, “Of course it hurt! If you took that rod”, she pointed at the yellow-orange metal on the blacksmith’s anvil, “and pressed it against your skin, what do you expect to feel? But you endure that pain because the reason you’re in pain is something to be proud of. Pain is not something to be afraid of!”
She realized she had gone too far. There had been no reason to sneer at the boy. What had she been like at the age of ten? She remembered looking at her master’s brand with awe, longing to feel the iron meeting her own skin one day. Was the boy a squeamish, sad case of an apprentice or was it just her being harsh? She gave him a pat on the shoulder.
“You’ve just been an apprentice for a couple of days, Putt. Don’t worry. It’s a long way from here to that brand, and if you get that far, you’ll know all you need to know to handle it.”
On the way back to the inn Avia found a tanner where she exchanged the hide from the deer for a piece of soft leather, enough for a pair of leggings for Putt she figured. She got a recommendation to a tailor not far from there, and she walked in there with the leather. The tailor had been overly kind and full of admiration and accepted far too low a price for his service. He measured the boy’s legs and did a rough fitting with a piece of cloth. Soon he returned with the cut leather pieces. Avia saw Putt’s strange face when the tailor checked their fittings. They were no pants but something to put on outside of his current. It was not the best solution, but it was as far as her economy could go at the moment. Avia took the leather, thanked and paid him.
“But they’re not finished” Putt protested when they left.
“We’re leaving tomorrow morning” Avia explained. “There’s no time. I’ll finish them during the journey.” As long as someone else cut the pieces, she could always put them together. She often did this, even if there were time and money to buy it all. It was relaxing to have something to do with your hands at night, and you could add the look you wanted without trying to explain your ideas to someone else.
Putt’s pants were still too short. They needed to be replaced, but now his legs would be covered with leather and the immediate need was taken care of. She wondered how fast he would outgrow his new garment. Maybe it was better with two loose legs. Hopefully, they would fit him longer than a couple of leather pants would. Her own clothes were several years old, but her size stayed the same. She had never considered the financial issues with taking Putt along. Well, it did not matter much. She had small needs, and Putt simply had to do with what she had to offer. And with this upcoming mission, she would have the money to buy him new clothes.
The next morning Avia and Putt turned up early at the grand house where Oon had taken her the day before. Oon awaited them in a less complicated hairdo than the day before but with the same expensive clothes. Soon two armed men turned up, dressed in the colors of the viceroy. Avia noted they carried a sword, a spear and a shield each, but apart from the helmets, they had little armor. She approved of their outfit. This would be a journey, not a battle. The less their bodies were cluttered up, the better. With them, they brought a mule packed with supplies. Avia shook their hands and presented herself. They appeared surprised and mumbled their names, so she had to ask for them again.
Their names were Sinik and Pho. Both were athletic, but Sinik appeared so gangling that his strength did not do his body justice. Pho had a cute, childish face which may give him luck with the girls but ought to result in trouble expressing authority. Two soldiers who did not appear as impressive as they might have if their outer appearance had not played them tricks. Avia guessed they were young adults used to be anonymous soldiers. Probably Oon did not know their names. But on this mission, they would not be able to be invisible in a crowd of other soldiers.
Avia, on the other hand, was not interested in invisible men and blind obedience. She wanted them to do as told, of course, as she was in command, but people who never asked and just did as told were a cause of misunderstandings. Either they did not understand what she wanted and did what they thought she meant, or she had misunderstood something and gave the wrong orders. She wanted questions. And if she was about to get any, it was up to her. She had to make sure they knew questions were expected and not something to be punished for. It was also a matter of knowing who she traveled with. Not that it made it safer to have their names, but it made her more comfortable.
She presented Putt as her orphaned grandson and now her apprentice. How she hated the tone of excuse in her voice when she presented him. Why did she hint that Putt was not capable? They had had one session! Putt would not likely gain the same style in his fighting as she, but that did not mean he was worthless as a warrior. He was robust and passionate, and he would do well, all in due time.
Finally, she made it clear she did not want any violent behavior towards the prisoner unless there were attempts to escape. She expected them to give the prisoner a respectful treatment, though keeping a prof
essional distance. They nodded in agreement. Avia noted that Oon Barsate did not agree. Nor disagree. She just stood there watching them as these instructions did not apply to her. It was a bad sign. Avia had made it clear who was in charge.
“I also want to point out that I’m in charge for this transport, which means I am in command over all the three of you.” Avia watched the other woman when she said this.
“Of course.” Oon’s voice was like silk made of ice. Soft but cold and unyielding.
“Questions?” Sinik and Pho gave each other a look and shook their heads. Oon gave them a nod, and they walked inside for the prisoner.
“Putt, your job will be to take care of the mule” Avia explained to the boy. “Watch and learn and if you have any questions, ask me privately.” Putt nodded and took the reins of the mule. He stroked it over the neck and talked to it in a quiet voice. A mule was the closest to familiar environment Putt had been near in days, Avia thought.
The two soldiers returned with the prisoner. Avia inspected her up and down. She was a slender woman, about thirty years old, dressed in a long, dark-green dress complemented with a belt with golden embroideries. The fabric of the dress and the delicate work spoke about wealth. Her long red-brown hair was held together in a simple tail at the neck. Her hands were tied in front of her. Avia saw at once that the woman was a beauty. She had better keep an eye on the two soldiers, so they did not become charmed.
“My name is Avia. And I’m in charge of transporting you to Posita. Any questions?” The woman shook her head. “Your name is Hockheba?” She nodded. Avia saw the look of disapproval Oon gave her. What she had asked the prisoner could be an indication of mistrust, that Oon Barsate, working for the viceroy, could have given her false information. Avia sighed for herself. Why was it so hard to understand she was building trust between herself and the prisoner? Trust that could be helpful during the journey to Posita. This did not mean she mistrusted her employer. This was something she would never say aloud, but unless Oon tried to undermine her, trust between herself and the prisoner was more useful than between her and Oon. Oon had given her a mission. She must then rely on that Avia could handle it, and that was about all they needed in their relation. If the prisoner, Hockheba, could feel confident of fair treatment in Avia’s presence, it was of more value than a deeper relationship with the employer. It was not about who she liked, but about a safe and secure transport of a prisoner. Avia had a hard time accepting that people, in general, took things so personally. It was a job and she handled it professionally.
CHAPTER SIX
The journey begins
What was routine for Avia was not at all familiar for Putt. He felt far more insecure and shy than he wanted to admit. His life had been one of daily courses and routine. Well aware of his grandmother’s travels and adventures he had enjoyed the safety of his predictable life. To move from the village had not been an option ever mentioned in his family, or within his interest. He had seen his entire life in Peragri, the village of his birth. He had thought he would grow up and get old and die in that village.
When things rotated radically, and he had been saved by his grandmother, he had come to realize how much he hated change. Never the less, he was fully aware there was nothing he could do about it, and he wanted with all his heart to adapt. His grandmother was all he had left, and he wanted to stay with her, help her and make her proud. Though he had always thought of himself as a farmer, his grandmother had had his admiration since he was a baby boy. Now he had a chance to become a warrior himself, become part of the legends and the respected clan they constituted. His meetings with warriors had been few. One or two had passed through their village, apart from his granny, but most of what he knew came from stories he had heard. Avia might have called them fairy-tales, but Putt believed in the essence of them. Even if some were exaggerated, the actual situation had taken place for real, of that he was sure. The warriors were everybody’s heroes. He would become a hero.
To transport a prisoner was not one of the most adventurous tasks of a warrior. The songs were usually about other deeds. But they were vital and honorable, and there were a few stories about those too. In one of his favorites, the warrior comes to understand that the prisoner is innocent and saves him from a fate worse than death, but gains an enemy in the judge who does not seek truth but glory. Putt hoped the innocent prisoner killed the judge as a grateful gesture, but the story did not tell. Now he was part of a team transporting a prisoner himself. And she was young and beautiful, and it was hard for him to believe she could have done something wrong. Putt wondered what had made the warrior in the story consider his prisoner was wrongfully judged. It was not like you ended up a prisoner for no reason, even if you were beautiful.
Putt led the mule as the last one in the party. In front of him was Sinik, the thin and tall soldier. Then his grandmother walked with the prisoner. Then came the sweet-faced soldier, Pho, and first of all, there was Oon in her grand cloak. Putt did not particularly like her. Even if he was a child and not necessary for the mission, he was still a person, and he was taught all people had the right to be seen and treated as someone. Oon did hardly see him. It was as if her eyes passed over his head, searching for the adult Putt instead of seeing him. He was pretty confident it was because he was a young boy. He had never met such behavior before, but he had noted adults tended to act differently towards other adults than they did towards children. Oon had no reason to despise him because he was a warrior’s apprentice when she admired his granny, the warrior.
As he walked the path along the mountainside, he considered the difference between the two soldiers and Avia. What was the disparity between a soldier or a guard, and a warrior? Sinik and Pho had different armor and weapons than his grandmother, and they did not seem to know how to move silently. To hear Avia walk by was just about impossible. The two soldiers seemed clumsy next to her even without their armor.
When Putt got to spend a little time with his grandmother alone, he asked her why warriors were used so often when a prisoner was transported.
“And why move them in the first place?” he asked.
“Not every prisoner is moved and not all regions do it. But most do” Avia answered. “If someone commits an unpopular crime he or she can be hated. Hate can lead to more crimes. So, by moving the hated person to a place where no-one has been affected by the offense, there’s less risk of hate and crime to spread.”
“Oh,” said Putt. He had not thought about that. For him, someone committing a crime was punished, and that was the end of it.
“And that’s one of the reasons a warrior is hired. It’s an outsider without bias or reason to treat the prisoner bad or push him or her off a cliff on the way. Then we’re skilled in safety and security as well.”
“Aren’t Sinik and Pho that as well?”
“Why don’t you ask them?” Avia returned. Putt felt his heart beat fast and he knew he had become pale. “Putt, you need to learn to talk to people, even if you don’t know them. It’s a valuable asset. And what is the worst that could happen?” Even if it felt like the world could end if he did something wrong he knew this was not true.
“That they despise me?”
“And if they did?” His grandmother had said this with a relaxed tone and almost with a smile. Putt did not get the question, even less her attitude. It would be horrible to be despised. Of course, it mattered. His opinion must have shown in his face because Avia was staring him right in the face.
“How will you ever learn things if you’re so afraid of making mistakes?” Did his own grandmother encourage him to make a fool of himself? “Sinik usually walks in front of you. Talk to him. Learn something from him.”
“But…” He stumbled on the words. “What reason would I have to talk to him? It’ll be strange if I just chatter.”
“People traveling together talk. People doing things together talk. It’s nothing unusual.” She left him staring, returning to her duties.
Th
e next day he followed Sinik’s footsteps as usual. He looked at the man’s back all day, unable to figure out a way to start a conversation. He was a ten-year-old boy and Sinik an adult and a soldier. How could he not appear like a fool when speaking to him, to his back? In the evening Avia came to him and asked what he had achieved.
“What’s the point of learning something from a someone who will have no part in my life?” he uttered with his teeth almost glued together with shame and anger. This was not fair! He was only a boy!
“The point is, that if you want to be a warrior, you can’t go staring at your feet all day. Do you think being a warrior is nothing more than handling a weapon? Do you think people will respect a warrior who can handle a sword but doesn’t dare to speak to a stranger?” Putt’s eyes were on his feet again. His grandmother did not say it, but he understood anyway. He had to talk to Sinik no matter the consequences.
Still, he looked at Sinik’s back almost to noon before he dared to do something. When Sinik paused to fix something with his boot Putt found the courage and spoke to him.
“Hello.” Sinik gave him a gaze of no interest and continued with his boot.
“Have you any training in safety and security?” Putt asked, and he hated how stupid it sounded and how thin his voice was. Now he got a glare instead.
“What da ya mean?”
“Well, I…” The other’s hostile attitude made his already unstable confidence sway. He swallowed.
“If ya mean that yo’ master is a grand, almighty warrior, yo’re right. And she an’ all other warriors can stuff all their pig shit up their asses.” Sinik spat on the ground in front of Putt and marched away leaving Putt dumbfounded by surprise and shock. In the evening he spoke to Avia about the meeting. It was not something he wanted to do. He felt embarrassed. Avia’s task had made him ashamed to face the soldier, though he had accomplished the mission. The man had also said mean things about his grandmother, and now he was forced to tell her or she would believe he had not mustered the courage to talk to him at all. Avia, however, laughed at Sinik’s words.
Caged Warrior (The Warrior and the Wizard Book 1) Page 5