Chapter Seven
By the time Maryam’s goods were packed and the party was ready, a wind had arisen. By the time it had become light enough to extinguish their torches, they were leaning into a gale. Even that did little to quell the woman’s tirades as she shouted instructions to the overseers and servants.
Roanna winced as a sudden sharp pain tore through the back of her head. She could do nothing for it. She was shielding her eyes with one arm and gripping the reins of a reluctant pack mule with the other as she struggled to force it to keep pace with the convoy. This was the second time on her journey she was grateful to be wearing leather. Her oreth hide clothing protected all but her face from the bits of debris the wind hurled. Her arm warded off most of that while the leather retained enough body heat to keep her from shivering.
Maryam was not so fortunate. Perched on the seat of the lead cart with the layers of her dress, petticoats, several blouses and scarves, two topcoats, and a shawl flapping madly, she shrieked at each new discomfort, gesticulating with both arms and feet, making Roanna grin at the mini-storm of red, blue, white, and orange in which this woman had cocooned herself.
“Sylene!” Maryam called.
A servant girl, who had been following on foot, ran to catch up.
“Yes, Ma’am?” she said, squinting against the dust.
Like Roanna, she raised one hand to protect her face while the other one struggled to clutch her coat closely about her.
“I’m thirsty. Bring me a water skin,” Maryam shouted above the tumult.
“Yes, Ma’am,” the girl called back.
When she returned, she held the sack aloft, trying to face her mistress despite how she flinched against the barrage of flying motes.
“Are you making me reach for it?”
“No, Ma’am,” Sylene replied, her eyes widening in distress at the error.
Slinging the bag’s strap across her shoulder, she struggled to climb aboard, almost falling when one of the wheels struck a pothole. To her credit, she managed to hang on. As the servant girl clung valiantly to the edge of the seat, Maryam slaked her thirst. Then, without so much as a look or word of thanks, she handed the water skin back, leaving it to the girl to reinsert the stopper that dangled on a cord.
Sylene plugged the water skin before shouldering it, then studied the ground passing beneath her. When the wagon moved onto an even stretch, the girl leapt and hit the ground rolling. Roanna sighed with relief when she climbed back to her feet, apparently unharmed. Maryam never noticed since, by then, she was shouting some new indignation at someone else’s perceived ineptitude.
Roanna wondered if this woman had ever experienced a single calm moment. Since their initial encounter, she had constantly been shouting something at someone. Was this how she would now live? In a world dominated by screams and threats, filled with consternation and turmoil? If that were to be the case, she did not know how she would manage. But manage she would, she resolved, because keeping calm with her wits about her, despite the distractions, would be the only way she would recognize an opportunity to escape whenever one appeared.
She took solace in the knowledge that Pandy’s abilities were emerging. Absent mother or friends, adrift in whatever land to which fortune had carried her, the powerful gift of foresight would steer her along the safest course possible. Roanna remembered when her own abilities had blossomed and how they had helped ease the turbulence of adolescence, guiding her away from the wrong sort of people, steering her from the typical mistakes most girls her own age would have made. That alone made her smile. If she had lost the ability to find her way to her daughter, then perhaps in time Pandy could find her.
“To the left. To the left!” shouted Maryam. “Lake Atkal and the way out of this cursed grass lie southeast of here.”
The road they were on forked; one way branched west, while the one Maryam was indicating turned toward the bright sphere of Jadon, before meandering more or less in a southerly direction. It was apparent, in fact, if they headed where Maryam was pointing, they would reach the edge of the grassy sea where its yellow color ended, perhaps a mile from where they were, and the brown soil beyond resumed. That single return to normalcy, however, was the only one she faced, and she considered the odd assemblage of people, carts, and animals to which she now belonged.
Maryam rode the lead cart, her bulk leaving barely enough room for her and the driver. On either side of its team of horses walked a soldier with a spear, supplied, she suspected, by Armus. Three mules followed, each one accompanied by one of Maryam’s manservants. After them came another cart, followed by five more mules, all led by various members of the household staff, men and women alike. Last of all came the third, followed by four other mules led in turn by men Roanna supposed might be considered soldiers. Those were attired like Jaret and Bexta, the profiteers who had taken her. Supervising this entourage were Simo and Duval who, Roanna had learned, were indeed the household overseers. While the servants all wore brown or beige cotton, these two wore the richly colored silk or satin brocades Roanna first encountered in the house of a baron where she was employed while still emerging from adolescence. Their tanned leather overcoats were secured with frogs of woven silk and were emblazoned with the tusked boar’s head she remembered from the banners over Armus’s encampment.
“Simo!” called Maryam, looking past her shoulder at the man who now hastened to catch up.
“Yes, Ma’am,” he said when he had reached her.
“See those trees?” she said, pointing toward a large copse of barrel stave trees near the roadside, perhaps fifty yards distant. “I’m tired of this wind. Let’s take shelter and break our fast there.”
After her household was situated and the pack animals were secured, Maryam summoned Roanna. She found her ensconced on a blanket far enough inside the grove that the gale was reduced to a breeze. A servant had managed to start a cook fire, and Maryam was sipping tea. She beckoned Roanna to join her. Distrustful of the woman and her new situation, Roanna complied.
“Tell me about yourself,” said Maryam. “Who was your last employer?”
“My last …?” The question startled Roanna. “Are you implying I’ve been a servant?”
“What else would you be?” Maryam asked, sipping noisily. “I know my Armus, and I know what kind of servants he sends.” Maryam scowled when Roanna laughed at the question. “Are you laughing at me?” she demanded.
Roanna shook her head, but continued to smile.
“I’m not laughing at you, my dear, so much as your ludicrous question. I’ll admit I’m not dressed in the finest, but what servant can afford oreth hide?”
When Maryam’s face soured, Roanna continued. “While I am by no means wealthy, I am free nonetheless. I’ve been employed, but I’ve never been owned.”
Maryam’s mouth tightened. “Are you implying that my Armus buys freemen?”
Roanna shook her head. “To the best of my knowledge, he didn’t buy me. At least, I never saw any money exchanged.”
She told Maryam about the two profiteers and how she found herself in Armus’s camp. Then, when she found she had Maryam’s ear, she told her about Pandy and, as she thought best how to relate it, about falling overboard. When Maryam appeared to be inwardly debating, Roanna scooted beside her.
“Look,” she said, drawing her hair aside to reveal the neck below her right ear. “No tattoo. I’ve never been anyone’s property.”
“You could have a mark somewhere else.”
“If you want, I’ll disrobe.” Then, looking about, she said, “But not here. Trust me until we get to wherever we’re going, then I’ll show you if you like. I’ve no tattoos anywhere.”
“I don’t know,” Maryam said, shaking her head.
“Maryam,” said Roanna, sounding almost conspiratorial. Placing a hand on her wrist, she asked, “What do you need most? Another servant or a friend?”
She had decided this woman was acting the bully because she was out of her depth. Alone, without her husband to assist, needing to command his soldiers’ respect and that of her two male overseers, she had elected to do so with bluster.
Roanna looked Maryam in the eyes.
“You can force me into a life of servitude, knowing, as I suspect you do now, that I’m nobody’s servant. But ask yourself, if you found yourself in the same situation, what would you do?”
When Maryam leaned away, Roanna said, “I’m not threatening. I’m just explaining the reality.
“On the other hand,” Roanna expanded, “I could be an invaluable assistant. We’re alike, you and I. We’re no dummies, but fate has dealt us both unfavorable hands. Simo and Duval don’t understand you, but I believe I do. I know you can sense it.”
As Maryam appeared to be mulling these matters over, Roanna said, “Let me put it another way. You have nothing I want. I only want my daughter. Yet until we get to a place where I can travel safely on my own away from these battlegrounds, I will be most happy to make your life easier. In fact, I’ll be someone you can confide in, should you feel the need.”
Maryam smiled. Then, noticing Duval passing by, she gestured and caught his attention. She beckoned him, then turned to Roanna.
“I want to thank you so much for being candid. You’ve eased my mind by answering much of what I needed to know about you.”
Roanna smiled back.
“Duval,” said Maryam when he had arrived where they were sitting. “Would you be good enough to take Roanna back to my cart?” Then, much louder she added, “And shackle her to the seat. Hobble her if necessary. She’ll be a runaway for sure.”
As Duval took Roanna’s arm and lifted her to her feet, Roanna stared at Maryam with unabashed surprise.
“Why?” was all she could think of to say.
Was this how ordinary people lived, she wondered, unable to see what each choice held in store, every day a gamble, a well-conceived hope at best?
“Why?” echoed Maryam. “I didn’t get where I am by recruiting girlfriends. Your daughter can rot, as far as I am concerned. Once we arrive in danTennet and are finally situated, I intend to brand you, tattoo you, and break both your ankles to keep you from deserting. You work for me now. Understand? You will always work for me.”