After they had returned from the Caern’s home, she had been unable to decide on an appropriate method to bring up the subject of mating, and Olivar had seemed equally uncertain. He stared at her a great deal, and appeared on the verge of speaking more than once, but never settled on anything of consequence. His usual prattle was stilted, his enquires after meals and her satisfaction were tempered with a forced brightness that was not at all becoming.
It made it all the more clear to her that they would need a proper talk, but still she could not determine how that might be accomplished. And then she had lost her opportunity for he had departed, kissing her temple with a sigh and informing her that he would be back late.
It was a shocking thing, to be there so entirely alone. She now knew that he had gone to speak with Bendan and coordinate with his trade-mates, but at the time she had fretted and worried herself into an uneasy sleep, only settling fully when she heard him creep into the bedroom and fall into his own, troubled sleep.
The swaying of the boat was soothing, and Olivar did not seem to mind when she laid her head against his shoulder, even as he rowed. The journey was longer than when she’d first come, and she briefly wondered if they would have to sleep elsewhere that night, perhaps on the hard ground somewhere. When did the thought of that become so unappealing? Life with Olivar had made her soft. She wasn’t sure if that was a bad thing or not. In her old life, she could be certain. But in this one...
“Almost there, Ness,” Olivar murmured softly in her ear. Her eyes fluttered open, huddling a little further into the thick weave of the borrowed tunic. There were strange mists clinging to the river, the shore nothing more than a blurred smudge. But the men seemed to know where they were going, their steering never faltering.
Bendan sat on her other side, two others accompanying them, neither of which she had seen before. Both had smiled at her that morning, warm, welcoming things that suggested they did not object to her presence. She had offered a shy smile in return, determined that she would not cause trouble for them.
She wished Olivar had told her more, that she had managed to break through the awkwardness that had overtaken them so he would have felt free to speak of these new people and all that was expected of her.
She glanced up at him, and he must have sensed her look for his eyes met hers. “Are you well?” he asked, mistaking her intent.
She nodded. “Yes,” she whispered back, not wanting to disturb the others with any chatter. “Only...”
Another stroke, the oars making a quiet ripple through the otherwise still water. “What is it, Ness?”
She bit her lip, reminding herself that this was Olivar, and a night of tension did not change anything between them. Not in any way that mattered. “Who are these people?” she finally asked. “Only, I do not know anything about them.”
Olivar returned his attention to the water, taking another few strokes as he considered his answer. “The Arterians... they keep to themselves. Honour means a great deal to them.” He smiled at her. “Sounds a little like you, does it not?”
She didn’t know if he was teasing or perhaps mocking, if just a little, so her smile was much more tremulous. “Is it the same sort? Of honour, I mean.”
Olivar sighed. “I am not certain that anyone believes as the Narada do. They value their women a great deal. We are trading for fabric today, so perhaps you will get to see one.”
Ness wondered what they might be like, if perhaps they were a glimpse into what a proper mistress might have been, especially since parts of them sounded very like what she was used to.
“Their language is similar to the Naradian tongue, so you might understand some of what is said.” He gave her an apologetic look. “It would be rude for me to dictate the tongue, otherwise I would.”
Ness shook her head. “I do not need to know what is happening,” she told him truthfully.
Olivar did not appear to fully agree with that, but he did not argue the point. “I like the Arterians, for the most part,” he continued, thoughtfully. “They are a much more reasonable sort than the Narada, but...” he glanced at her briefly. “Keep close to me regardless.”
She did not think that required saying, but the order did not help her nerves at all, and she fiddled with her—his—long sleeve. He had told her not to fret over wearing it, that it was hers if she wanted to keep it, and she supposed if she kept tugging at the too-long cuff, she would have no choice but to make it hers. She wouldn’t give anything back that was damaged, no matter what assurances Olivar wanted to give her that he didn’t mind.
“You will be fine, Ness,” Bendan interjected, much to her surprise. “Olivar might sound gloomy about it, but they are not a bad sort. Can be a bit formal, but they are not going to try to do anything to you. Not that we would let them in any case.”
“Truth!” another of them piped in, holding his oar aloft. That made Bendan glare at him rather fiercely, and he put it back in the water, continuing to row in time with the others.
Her eyes flitted over each of them, feeling rather strange as she did so. They were all looking at her encouragingly, as if her presence was not only tolerated, but... welcomed.
It was so wholly undeserved that she almost wished to explain that to them, but Olivar gave her a nudge with his shoulder, evidently wanting her to look at him instead. “You are a member of our crew today,” he explained. “We take care of our own.”
She was oddly touched by that, tucking her chin into her collar in case any of them see her lip wobble just a little.
It wasn’t long before they steered the ship to the shore. There was no dock, not like at the Onidae’s embankment, so the two nameless men jumped from the boat and tugged it onto the shore. Their boots kept most of their clothes dry, but she noted wet patches that gave proof they were not completely successful. She looked down at her own clothes a little dubiously, not liking the idea of having to make any sort of trek in wet boots. But before she could grow too dismayed, Olivar plucked her from the boat and carried her to the shore, setting her down with a smile before he returned to the ship, opening a hidden door at the bottom and bringing out the cargo within.
She noticed one of the men tying the boat to the trunk of a low-hanging tree, a complicated mess of knots that was nearly impossible to follow. At first she wondered if the man knew what he was doing at all, but his fingers moved quickly, as if the manoeuvre was well known and rudimentary, so many times had the complex weave been performed. He caught her looking, and she almost lowered her eyes and bowed her head in apology, but he gave a shrug, holding out the last coil of rope. “They could cut the rope,” he explained, “and we lose the boat, but then there is no mistaking what occurred. If it can be unmoored, then they could claim carelessness.”
“Oh,” she murmured. It made sense, but still seemed strange to her. Why did they make trades with those they clearly did not fully trust?
A large pouch appeared at her feet, and she looked at it in some surprise. “Entertaining our Ness with your showmanship, Archal?” Bendan asked, easing another bundle joining the first. That warm feeling spread through her again, though she reminded herself that Bendan was prone to teasing and he might not be sincere. She was a part of them for a day, for a trial, but not forever.
But the feeling of belonging was a treasured one, and she determined to enjoy this day, these few hours, and all that it meant.
Bendan gave her a smile before he turned to disappear into the hold again. She wasn’t certain how he even fit, as the ship seemed so very shallow, presumably so it could navigate even the rockier parts of the river. She wondered who it belonged to, if perhaps this was Olivar’s lady, but he had not said, none had volunteered to tell her either.
She did not know what was in the sacks, and she gave one of them an experimental tap with her foot. It gave way, if just a little. Grain perhaps?
Eventually the sacks stopped coming, and Olivar appeared, he and the rest of the men picking up the bundles and swinging th
em over their shoulders. None asked her to do the same, and she considered if offering would be seen as helpful or merely ridiculous.
“Should I...” she began, and she blushed, when a few of them began to chuckle. The last bag was taken up by the knot-man. “That will not be necessary, Ness,” Olivar said gently, the others already beginning to move off. “But I thank you for the offer.”
She wondered if he meant that, or perhaps he was simply indulging her. She didn’t know why it bothered her, that not-knowing, but she supposed it was because Olivar was usually so sincere in all that he said.
They were falling behind, and Olivar evidently was not going to move until she chose to, and again she wanted to say something to him—to somehow smooth over whatever unpleasantness had passed between them.
But now did not seem the time, especially not when this trade was so important to his future and his honour, so with a little sigh, she started to follow the others.
It was colder here than with the Onidae. She didn’t quite understand why, as the two suns were now both in the sky, and they did not seem so very far from where she now called home.
But still, the mists clung to the ground, swirling around her ankles as she walked—a strange, unearthly thing that made her nervous. It was strange, not to see the ground where she stepped, having to trust that there were no twigs or roots to impede her path.
The others were a good deal ahead, their long legs and quick strides causing them to move much more quickly than Olivar did, though now she recognised that was solely for her sake.
She was a hindrance, at least in expediency, and she tried to hurry, but she decided that tripping and hurting herself would prove a far greater inconvenience.
“We are in no great hurry,” Olivar assured her, seeming to notice her attempt at haste.
She huffed a little. “But you should be up there with them.”
“No,” Olivar argued, raising his voice just a little. “They are to go at the pace of their slowest member. Which,” he turned, giving her a sheepish half-smile, “would be you.” His hands were full, but she rather thought he would have given her braid a tug if he’d been able. “And that’s not something for you to fret about—there’s nothing wrong with it. You can’t help your short legs just as we cannot help our long ones.”
That was true, but it did not stop her from wishing to be a little more like Alindra all the same.
She was surprised that the others heard him, the distance seemed too great, but they slowed. Not quite keeping pace with them, but the gap was much shorter. Olivar gave a grunt of not-quite approval, but he did not chastise them again.
“Olivar,” Ness broached, her voice low. She did not know when they would meet these Arterians, and she did not want to end up insulting them. She did not know how similar the languages truly were, and giving offence was one of the last things she desired.
He hummed in acknowledgement.
She sighed, fiddling with the sleeve on her borrowed outers. It hid her bandage well, the pain of her burn beginning to fade, though she supposed that was more because of the continued herbs and salve rather than true healing. It still looked quite dreadful whenever she was brave enough to peek when Olivar changed the dressing.
“Why do you trade with people you do not trust?”
Olivar seemed surprised at her question, and she wondered if he thought she was going to speak of... of yesterday, and she almost thought she saw a touch of disappointment in his eyes that she hadn’t. But it was gone so quickly that she couldn’t even be certain it was there, and then he grew thoughtful.
“We see great purpose in trade. It would be... a wonderful thing, if other peoples could be like us, in our ways and in our manners.” He shook his head, a tightness coming about his eyes. “I would like nothing more than to encourage my people to take up their swords against the Narada for all that is done to your kind.”
She bit her lip. She didn’t know if she liked that idea. It made her guilty, to think of the freedom she had found here while the others lived as they had always done. But for Olivar to have to fight? Bendan? Alindra?
Her?
Olivar sighed. “We use trade to build treaties. It has saved many lives in many generations and serves us well. We can focus on our metal-work when we do not have to produce everything ourselves.” He stood a little taller, obviously his skills with his smithing a source of accomplishment. “Our ships can go much farther than any others.” His eyes turning wistful. “I was going to see beyond the Great River one day.”
Guilt niggled at her. “And now?”
He turned to her, his expression smoothing. “Now... Well, we cannot know that yet, can we?”
She sighed, nodding her head in agreement, though she was not entirely certain of the source. They would not know the Caern’s decree until after this trial had finished. Or did he refer to his going at all? He seemed too reticent to leave her, for which she was usually grateful, but according to the Caern, only a mated pair could be part of the company.
Unless she earned her place on her own right?
She wanted to scoff at that. She had no skills to offer the group. If something went wrong, she had no knowledge of weapons or strategy to see the others back safely.
“Are your legs broken back there?” Bendan called, exasperation dripping from his tone, though something told her it was more feigned than genuine.
Olivar rolled his eyes. “Slowest member sets the pace,” he reminded them. “And you all agreed.”
Bendan sighed loudly. “You failed to properly describe the pace.”
Ness flushed, staring down at the ground. She wished she could tell them to go on ahead, that she would follow when she was able, but that seemed a stupid suggestion, even to her.
She would be lost, and they would have to waste precious time looking for her.
And that assumed that some wild beast didn’t try to eat her before then.
Bendan went over to her, and he brought his head down to her ear. “No need to look like that, Ness,” he unexpectedly soothed. “We mean to tease Olivar, and not you.”
She glanced at him, a bit disbelievingly, and he gave her a gentle smile.
The other two men were wrestling the burdens from Olivar’s shoulders, despite his rather vocal protests.
“Carry your girl, Olivar,” Archal groused. “Should have been doing that from the beginning.”
Olivar’s ears turned green, and though their eyes brightened in amusement, they said nothing.
It was more embarrassing for him to approach her in front of the others than it was in private. It felt different with this awkwardness between them than even those harder days when first she’d come and he’d walked her through the market.
He crouched and this time she knew how to place her arms and legs about him as she clung to his back. He situated her legs just so and patted her arms, though his motions were much more stiff than they had been.
She would fix this thing between them. And soon. It was too devastating for it to remain as it was.
They did move much more quickly without her to slow them down. She tried not to be too embarrassed that she had impeded their progress, but it was difficult. Bendan liked to tease his brother, she reminded herself firmly. It likely had very little to do with her.
Yet her already tender emotions were bruised all the same, even as she silently chastised herself for it. She had never been allowed the luxury of such delicate feelings with the Narada. Life with Olivar had softened her, had made her feel, whether or not that was always best or most convenient. And even now she could not say that she would exchange it for what was.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered softly into Olivar’s ear. “For whatever I said or... or didn’t say.”
He turned to her, his surprise evident, though it was shuttered quickly. “We will discuss it later, Ness,” he said with a sigh. His lips thinned, and he closed his eyes briefly. “I have... not been the most gracious to you either. And for that I
apologise.”
She smiled, more to absolve him than to communicate any relief, for she did not feel any. She wished she knew what had transpired. But she didn’t, and he was right that now wasn’t the time, so she settled for leaning down and wrapping her arms more tightly about him, the closest she could come to a hug given their positions. He laid his hand over both of her forearms, patting gently, and for the first time since yesterday, she thought that perhaps everything might be all right after all.
“Hoi!” the third man called, holding up his hand. Each of them halted, their eyes darting about quickly, and they must have seen something for their postures shifted. The bundles were carried a little more neatly, they walked a little straighter, and Olivar was tugging Ness down so that she would stand beside him.
“We are close,” he explained, his voice low. “I do not know their...” he shook his head, looking nervously in the direction they were going. “Just stand with me.”
She wanted to take his hand, to hide behind him even as she clung to him for comfort, but she didn’t.
These people might be better than the Narada, at least in Olivar’s estimation, but that did not mean they’d like to see a thrall clinging to a...
Even now, she couldn’t think of him as a master.
But regardless, it wouldn’t be appropriate.
Bendan handed Olivar a bundle, declaring that he should at least appear useful, and Olivar promptly used it to give his brother a hearty nudge.
Archel hissed at both of them to behave, which calmed both of them immediately.
Olivar turned to her, smiling apologetically, and they were moving again.
She did not know what she’d expected—perhaps for the trade to be done as hers had been. The Narada had not offered for the Onidae to enter their tunnels, so for them to so easily walk into the Arterian village was a surprise.
The Onidae seemed to prefer stone and wood for their dwellings, elaborate metal fixtures holding the structures together.
The Arterian homes looked as though they had lived there for generations, heavy coatings of brightly coloured moss covered the roofs, the walls streaked more lightly, but still in vibrant hues of blues and greens.
Thrall (Deridia Book 3) Page 27