They joined the camp and Avia continued Putt’s physical combat training. He hated it, feeling clumsy compared to his lithe grandmother. And then everybody was watching too. Then she turned to Sinik and asked him if he could train Putt that evening. Avia explained that he was strong and forceful as Putt, a technique she never mastered. It was not a question if the soldier became flattered and Putt understood Avia’s tactics. Yet he was not overly thrilled by a session with him. Sinik turned out to be a direct and patient teacher, though Putt still felt hamfisted and awkward with the wooden sword. He saw the prisoner observing the spectacle. Why did he feel even more ashamed that she saw the mess? She was a prisoner, a traitor, never to become a warrior as he would. He was the privileged one. Why did she have to have such intense and catching eyes? He found her grinning. Did she find him a fool? He straightened up and found new courage and caught Sinik off guard. Putt saw for his inner eye how Hockheba’s smile had been a sweet one, impressed by him.
Putt had never traveled anywhere before the attack on his village. It was a strange experience to go from a life where you had a house and a bed at night to a living where all you had was a blanket, and the place where you slept differed every night. But this was not all that was new. He had never thought much about the world outside of his safe sphere. He had had fantasies based on stories but had never given it a proper thought of realism. It was hard to imagine a landscape that differed much from what he knew. He has seen mountains with ice in the summer but never had he imagined the paths high up along the hillsides with precipices right beside them. It was a little vegetation between the path and the edge, so it felt safe enough, but the view, if you looked out, was beyond every dream. When he saw the mountain on the other side of the valley in a bluish haze and small clouds floating below his feet in the gap between he took in the reality of his new life. It felt like few things could ever beat to see clouds from above. From time to time the path found its way across fields with one or two farms where the hill was flat and then it had returned to its position glued to the steep rock. Overall, they walked down towards the bottom of the valley, but it felt like it would take days to get there.
His grandmother had given him a new task - It was time to talk to Pho, the other of the two soldiers. That was trickier because he walked second, which meant that he could not do it while they were walking as he had been able to with Sinik. This time he would probably need to do it in front of everybody else while resting. She had told him not to worry. If he felt like a fool afterward, he only had to remember that when this mission was over he would not have to see any of them ever again. They would return to their mountain village of Kaid Pah and he would continue somewhere else. It gave some comfort, even if he was not overwhelmed with joy about it. He had been completely satisfied if his only task was to walk with the mule, not interacting with anybody except for his granny.
When they took a break for the night, Putt joined the camp and walked up to Pho who sat by the prisoner while the others arranged for supper and sleeping.
“Hello,” he said and tried to sound casual though there was nothing spontaneous about the situation at all. Pho eyed him up and down.
“Hello.”
“Where do you come from?” he asked straightforward without any warning.
“What?” Pho stared at him like he just dropped down from the sky. The soldier’s boyish face did not seem friendly at all.
“What is this?” Sinik who overheard them demanded. “Why do you ask these strange questions out of the blue?” Putt was not sure exactly what Sinik meant, but he answered truthfully:
“My grandmother asked me to.” Avia lifted her head from the building of a fireplace.
“As your master, boy, not your grandmother.” Put was not sure about the difference but thought that it was a question for later when it was only the two of them.
“An’ to what purpose does a warrior master tells her boy to question us ‘bout things that are not his business?” Sinik forced. Putt wanted to hide somewhere. He had put his grandma in trouble by his behavior again. To his surprise, she did not rise and gave the soldier an angry pose. She continued to arrange the wood for starting a fire.
“Do you think he’s good at talking to strangers?” she asked in return.
“I figured I made it clear what I thought. He’s not talking, he’s prying.”
“Then he needs to practice. To some, talking to other people comes naturally. For others, it doesn’t. For those people, it’s important to practice. It’s not a matter of prying. Only to learn to dare to approach you in the first place. A question is a good start. If you found it offensive, it was the wrong question, and that’s something to learn from as well.” Avia used her fire-steel and got a bunch of dry grass burning. She pushed it inside her construction of thin sticks surrounded by larger pieces of wood, and soon Putt saw flames rose and heard the familiar sound of burning wood. His eyes wandered from the fire. Sinik frowned at Avia without a word. Then he shrugged and unpacked food from the mule. Pho still sat in the same place, guarding the prisoner, but now looking into the fire. Oon sat on a blanket at the other end of the camp. None of them paid him any attention. It was like his grandmother’s words had just passed by like an annoying wind now forgotten. The prisoner though, Hockheba, watched him. She made a little motion with her hand, beckoning him to come closer. She was tied up and guarded, it was not much she could do to him. He came closer.
“Being shy is not a crime” she ensured him with a raucous voice like she had some problems with her vocal cords. “But it’ll do you no good. Your master’s right. Work on it.” Putt saw his grandmother watching them and felt a huge urge to move away from the convict. He stepped back, took his wooden sword and left the camp to do his exercises alone. He felt he had had just enough of human encounters for a whole day.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Hockheba
Avia watched Putt leave with his sword. She sat down beside Hockheba. Friends sat beside each other. Opposite each other indicated a relationship where one had power over the other. She had power over the prisoner, but there was no need for a reminder. This time she wanted to build trust.
“I don’t want you to talk to him,” she said without aggression, as a fact.
“Surprise me” came the reply. Avia gazed at her.
“No. And I don’t want any surprises from you either.” She listened to the chuckle she got in response. This was something she had so hard to relate to, this behavior like she was part of the conviction just because she agreed to do the transport. Where was the problem to look beyond the situation and see each person for what they were right there and then?
Avia did not know if Oon had been personally affected by Hockheba’s treason, but it was not likely Sinik and Pho knew more than they were told about the story. Why could they not do their job without involving some form of punishment for a crime they only heard about? She had seen them both a few times reminding the prisoner of who was in charge by yanking the ropes and teasing her when serving her food. When scowling them in private, they had questioned on who’s side she was. Side? She did a job. She was transporting a prisoner from one place to another. What crime that resulted in the sentence was of little interest to her. And even so, she knew there were more to every person than a crime.
“You know, I don’t care about what crimes got you here. My job is to take you to Posita, alive and in good health. It’s a lot easier doing so if you talk to me.”
“Why should I make it easy for you?”
“I’m talking about making it easier for yourself” Avia smiled in return. “The easiest for me would have been to throw you as a bundle over a mule.”
“How glorious of you not to” Hockheba answered with her bristly voice.
“I think I could’ve stood the smell from your pee and shit and throw-ups.” She saw the woman blinking in distaste. It was never an alternative to place her over the mule, but Avia wanted her to feel it could have been worse than the current
situation.
“What do you want?” Hockheba asked.
“For you not to talk to the boy.”
“Or you will throw me over the mule?” Avia shook her head.
“What do you think of me? No. All I’m asking of you is to stay away from my apprentice.”
“It’s not much of an apprentice.”
“Stay away from him never the less. If you feel you need to talk to someone, you can talk to me.” Hockheba gave her a nod and Avia rose.
She hoped that Pho who sat nearest the prisoner had heard the instructions and could give a hand in keeping Putt away from her. It was a likely Putt would return to Hockheba to chat some more, since she had said the right things to him, giving him a safe port to relax. It was harmless words to an untrained ear, but Avia knew it was likely more than that. Hockheba had had no reason to say anything to Putt. Maybe she just wanted to be nice, felt some compassion for the poor boy in a strange world. Maybe she wanted to dupe him for later use. Avia reminded herself to have time to be Putt’s grandmother as well. Now he had only had his master, and as such, she was not much of a comfort. Maybe she was not able to give much support as grandmother either, but at least she needed to remind herself that this was what she had been for the boy long before she became his master.
She watched Sinik cook. In a pot of course. They had brought a pot to put over the fire. They had also brought food, so they did not need to hunt. It was a sense in that, but she missed hunting and the taste of fresh meat. She did not care much for stews on dried beans and salted pork. In a sudden sense of not belonging there, she turned and walked away to find Putt.
Avia found Putt not far from the camp practicing with his wooden sword. She halted before he had seen her and watched his moves. He was no natural talent, but he had taken the initiative to exercise himself and danced around with unflagging vitality even though no one saw him. Putt was no lazy apprentice which gave her hope he would make her proud someday. To be a proper grandmother felt distant now. For and most she was a warrior. She approached, and Putt halted as he saw her. He panted and dried sweat from his forehead with his sleeve.
“Grandma” he expressed with joy. “I think I’m getting better at this.” She gave an approving nod to his efforts.
“You work hard. That’s promising.” He grinned and caught his breath.
“Grandma,” he said after a moment’s thought. Avia did not want to be grandmother right then. She wanted to be his master and instruct him.
“Yes?”
“What did you mean when you said you gave me the task to me as my master and not as my grandma? I mean, you’re always my grandma.” Avia took a deep breath. The boy was not aware of the difference she presumed had been obvious.
“Being a grandma and being a master are two separate things” she began. “A grandparent’s duties and privileges differ compared to the role of a master. For instance, masters always have to teach and discipline their apprentices while grandparents don’t. Do you understand?” Putt nodded but frowned.
“How can you be the one who punishes me when you at the same time is the one who doesn’t. Are you no longer my grandma?” Avia felt cloven in two. She knew Putt expected her to be his grandmother, the exotic, strange zone of comfort who told stories in the evening. The grandma who visited Posita every year. Be one of the few leftovers from his home. For her, that time was over. Not only because she was now his master, but because the role of his ideal grandmother was something she could uphold when she visited her daughter’s family when the warrior was not needed. When she was not there, she was only Avia the warrior.
“I’m bound by blood to be your grandma” she answered. “Always will be. But if you want me to train you as a warrior there can be no more of that. You need to look upon me as your master, nothing else. From time to time we can waive it, but not regularly. Can we agree on that?” The boy’s eyes were hard to read. Was there disappointment?
“Can we agree on that?” she pushed him. Putt nodded and picked up his sword.
“Will you keep telling me stories?” he asked. It sounded like he begged. With a nod, Avia confirmed that she would. Most warriors were more or less obliged to tell about their adventures, fables or real events, it did not make much difference. No one questioned what they told since they all wanted entertainment and not facts. Avia drew her sword and showed Putt new moves. He practiced under her supervision. Did he understand what a sword was used for she wondered? He liked the exercises but did he have a clue that he would use a real sword to kill people? Would he be able to do it when he got older? Thinking back at her own apprenticeship she was not so keen on the idea of slaying humans but was fully aware it was where it would lead. Putt seemed so naive. The humble, kind and unselfish boy was also so unaware and trusting. She found herself thinking in terms of 'pure' and 'untouched.' Would she ruin him? Was she ruined or perfected?
“What do you think when you see our prisoner?” she inquired. Putt paused in a middle of a move and blushed.
“She’s pretty,” he said in a small voice. Avia placed her old, skinny hands on Putt’s narrow shoulders. She bent down to get her eyes to level his.
“Don’t ever mistake a beautiful face for anything but a beautiful face.”
“What?”
“If someone is beautiful, it does not mean anything more than there is a beautiful face. It doesn’t tell if the person is clever or kind. Or innocent. Do you understand?”
“She seemed nice” Putt muttered.
“You don’t know that, Putt, and you shouldn’t find out either. Our job is to take her to Posita, nothing more. Understand?” Putt nodded, but Avia felt his unease.
“Is there something you want to ask me?”
“Well… I remember this story I heard about a warrior who freed a prisoner because he was innocent. If you never learn to know the prisoner, how will you know if she is innocent or not?” Avia sighed and let go of Putt’s shoulders.
“That’s nothing but a story, boy. Warriors handle their missions with adult professionalism. As such, you don’t act as a judge unless asked for.”
“But isn’t that boring, just to take a prisoner somewhere?” She felt the hero’s aura around warriors fall apart for the boy. That was good. The sooner he understood what it was all about, the better.
“Boring in the meaning not enough heroism for you? Boy, listen up now! It takes skill to transport a prisoner safely. It may not be glamorous, but it’s a paid warrior’s job which is highly requested. If other people’s safety, justice, and law are too simple for you to bother with, you’ve nothing to do in this profession.” Putt’s eyes were on the ground in front of him.
“I’m sorry, grandma.”
“’Master’” she corrected him.
“I’m sorry, master.”
The following days Avia had a hard time keeping Putt away from Hockheba. It was not that Putt deliberately opposed her, she understood that much, though it demanded a lot from her experience and patience to accept that. The attraction between the two of them was of another kind, at least from her grandson’s perspective. Putt was in need of a mother, and no matter how awkward and impossible it seemed to Avia, their prisoner fulfilled the demand. Yes, she was jealous. It was not without surprise she had this sensation. She, who insisted on being his master and not his granny envied the one who took a place she left. The woman Putt had picked for his needs was everything she did not want for Putt. She was a convicted criminal. She was also a beautiful woman of the right age and a friendly and loving attitude.
To Avia’s annoyance, she made herself feel like a villain every time she caught them talking and forced them apart. She cursed herself for accepting the mission at this early stage after Putt’s terrifying experiences but doing so did not change the problem at hand. In an ideal world Putt’s and Hockheba’s friendship would be honest and without underlying intentions and both accepting the inevitable ending when they arrived at Posita. However, Putt was too young to take such ending
, and Hockheba had all reasons in the world to hide her intentions from Putt. In a perfect world, there would be no need for neither warriors nor prisoners. Nothing indicated the world was a sugarcoated dreamland. She had to expect the prisoner to want something from Putt that was more than a mere company.
It did not make things easier when Oon Barsate took Avia for a walk and told her opinion about what she considered to be a reckless and undisciplined boy and his contact with the woman. Avia could little but agree. It was unacceptable. It was five days left of their journey, and it was too long for her to just let things be. It was not that she had not spoken to Putt about it, but he was drawn to Hockheba like iron to a magnet. It did not take long before he walked so close to her that they could talk. Sinik tried to block him of course, but the path was no longer a narrow strip along a mountainside. They were down in the valley now and soon out on the plains. And so the path became a road, and Sinik grew tired of babysitting Putt as he expressed it when Avia complained. If she was not capable of teaching the boy the rules, he was not to take the blame for her failure, he said. Though Avia imposed otherwise there and then, to him, she knew in her heart Sinik was right.
She also noted the mood when they camped had changed for the worse. Putt was about to ruin her reputation, the one thing that brought food to the table for a warrior. When she saw him sit down with Hockheba again, she rose, grabbed him by the neck and more or less lifted him off the ground and took him into the forest. She was furious, and when she let go of him, she more or less threw him to the ground.
“Now you listen, your stupid little brat!” she growled. “How hard is it to understand? If you don’t stay away from her I’ll promise I’ll whip you until you do!”
Caged Warrior (The Warrior and the Wizard Book 1) Page 6