listening?"
Alaysha's gaze refocused. She must have
been lost in thought to have missed what the girl was saying. "I'm
listening."
The girl shuffled her feet through the
turf. "My master -- the one who -- the one who took us in after the
conquest, he worked us hard." She fleeted a look into Alaysha's eyes, and
there was a peculiar intelligence within, something pitiful to waste on manual
labor, which is what all those from that campaign were used for: kitchen
slaves, horse mockers, stone cutters.
"And?"
"Well we didn't mind hard work. Where
I come from, we work the earth just as hard, but it was the -- master -- of the
house more than the needs." The girl let her gaze drop to her feet.
It took a moment to sink in, and the
realization made Alaysha's stomach turn.
"You mean the master --"
The girl held up her hand as though she
couldn't bear to hear the words.
"Oh sweet Deities." Alaysha said.
"Sweet Deities, you poor thing." She reached out to touch the girl's
filthy plaits. "So you ran away. Are you all right. Do you need to see a
medicine woman?"
The girl seemed confused. "I'm
fine," she said. "Just hungry."
"But you said --"
"I said my brother couldn't take it
anymore and we ran away."
"Your brother?" The mosaic was
coming together a little tighter, and Alaysha couldn't say the picture was any
prettier than what she'd originally thought.
The girl nodded. "At first we went
together. But the master is on the trail a lot and we couldn't stay together
without fear one of us would be found, and so then, the other. He told me to stay
with the camp when it travels, on the fringes, stealing food, and then when we
were back in Sarum, to stay close to his dog's quarters. I could get more
scraps from them -- you know the dogs are so well fed, they often have most of
what's left."
"But how could he leave you like
that?"
The girl glanced up sharply and the look
she gave Alaysha sent a shiver down her spine. "He hasn't really left
forever -- he's coming back. And when he does it will be with an army."
Alaysha wanted to say something, but they'd
reached the beginnings of the camp and a horrible keening wail had begun that
replaced the shiver running down Alaysha's spine with goose pimples. She darted
to the left where a small animal skin tent had been erected amidst trees with
long horizontal branches. One of the laundresses, obviously. There were always
about half a dozen of them each time the camp struck out, always pitched their
sites closest to the outer edge so the warriors could strip off their
blood-soaked linen armor as soon as possible and leave it at those washes --
then pick it up on the way to battle.
Since Alaysha had been going on conquest
with her father, those laundresses had less blood-soaked linen and more sweaty
tunics to clean. Still, they clung to the old ways with a tenacity borne of
needfulness. Should they become extraneous, no doubt the great Yuri would find
some other use for them -- less favorable, if he found tasks at all. He had
said more than once how he hated having to feed an army.
Still, the pile of rags the woman moaned
over was so small, so insignificant, it made Alaysha wonder what could possibly
be so horrible. It was then she saw the true shape of the rags. Formed around a
tiny body. A little flaxspun cap atop its head.
She caught her breath and found she couldn't
exhale. She should have known. She should have known she couldn't stop the
power.
She cast harried glances around her.
Laundry stiff as it hung from branches, stretched-out spruce roots forming a
drying line. The ground beneath her feet was crackling moss -- dried to straw.
The woman herself was unstooped with age, but her lips were dry and her weeping
was horribly tearless.
Oh sweet Deities. They would know. They
would all know.
The strength nearly left her legs; she had
to force herself to back up. She fetched into the little ferret.
"And what could they do about it if
they did know?"
She hadn't expected the girl to
Alaysha's gaze refocused. She must have
been lost in thought to have missed what the girl was saying. "I'm
listening."
The girl shuffled her feet through the
turf. "My master -- the one who -- the one who took us in after the
conquest, he worked us hard." She fleeted a look into Alaysha's eyes, and
there was a peculiar intelligence within, something pitiful to waste on manual
labor, which is what all those from that campaign were used for: kitchen
slaves, horse mockers, stone cutters.
"And?"
"Well we didn't mind hard work. Where
I come from, we work the earth just as hard, but it was the -- master -- of the
house more than the needs." The girl let her gaze drop to her feet.
It took a moment to sink in, and the
realization made Alaysha's stomach turn.
"You mean the master --"
The girl held up her hand as though she
couldn't bear to hear the words.
"Oh sweet Deities." Alaysha said.
"Sweet Deities, you poor thing." She reached out to touch the girl's
filthy plaits. "So you ran away. Are you all right. Do you need to see a
medicine woman?"
The girl seemed confused. "I'm
fine," she said. "Just hungry."
"But you said --"
"I said my brother couldn't take it
anymore and we ran away."
"Your brother?" The mosaic was
coming together a little tighter, and Alaysha couldn't say the picture was any
prettier than what she'd originally thought.
The girl nodded. "At first we went
together. But the master is on the trail a lot and we couldn't stay together
without fear one of us would be found, and so then, the other. He told me to stay
with the camp when it travels, on the fringes, stealing food, and then when we
were back in Sarum, to stay close to his dog's quarters. I could get more
scraps from them -- you know the dogs are so well fed, they often have most of
what's left."
"But how could he leave you like
that?"
The girl glanced up sharply and the look
she gave Alaysha sent a shiver down her spine. "He hasn't really left
forever -- he's coming back. And when he does it will be with an army."
Alaysha wanted to say something, but they'd
reached the beginnings of the camp and a horrible keening wail had begun that
replaced the shiver running down Alaysha's spine with goose pimples. She darted
to the left where a small animal skin tent had been erected amidst trees with
long horizontal branches. One of the laundresses, obviously. There were always
about half a dozen of them each time the camp struck out, always pitched their
sites closest to the outer edge so the warriors could strip off their
blood-soaked linen armor as soon as possible and leave it at those washes --
then pick it up on the way to battle.
Since Alaysha had been going on conquest
with her father, those laundresses had less blood-soaked linen and more sweaty
tunics to clean. Still, they clung to the old ways with a tenacity borne of
needfulness. Should they become extraneous, no doubt the great Yuri would find
some other use for them -- less favorable, if he found tasks at all. He had
said more than once how he hated having to feed an army.
Still, the pile of rags the woman moaned
over was so small, so insignificant, it made Alaysha wonder what could possibly
be so horrible. It was then she saw the true shape of the rags. Formed around a
tiny body. A little flaxspun cap atop its head.
She caught her breath and found she couldn't
exhale. She should have known. She should have known she couldn't stop the
power.
She cast harried glances around her.
Laundry stiff as it hung from branches, stretched-out spruce roots forming a
drying line. The ground beneath her feet was crackling moss -- dried to straw.
The woman herself was unstooped with age, but her lips were dry and her weeping
was horribly tearless.
Oh sweet Deities. They would know. They
would all know.
The strength nearly left her legs; she had
to force herself to back up. She fetched into the little ferret.
"And what could they do about it if
they did know?"
She hadn't expected the girl to
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