Chapter Thirty-Six

“You want to buy the boy, that’s my price, m’lord.” The old man who spoke to Corwin was wearing a white stole emblazoned with the symbols of the known gods in their little scarlett squares, while the unknown gods were marked with only blank squares of the same background color. His white beard and silver hair were less indicative of his age than his stooped posture and wrinkled face. The rest of his clothing was as expensive as a priest’s, but the stole indicated that he was only an affiliate, one of those who provided considerable money or labor to the temples as one of their patrons.

Cynic that he was, Corwin long ago dismissed the notion that this was an indication of piety, as the temples were known to pull favors for those who ‘favored’ them with generous gifts.

Corwin’s merchant instincts would not let him accept a price that was just offered at the outset, and he had one card to play that was sure to give him an edge. “The price of selling human debt labor is one gold coin for each year, the same goes for criminal sentencing. You’re asking fifty coins for a mere boy, and not a well fed one, not even skilled labor. Do I look,” Corwin patted his sizable belly, “like a man who will get fifty years worth of work from an elf? I will give you ten gold coins, because you know you don’t value an elf more than you do a human.”

The old man intuitively touched his stole as if it protected him from any blasphemous words, rubbing the white silk in between his fingers while he tried to think of a retort.

“You say that, but you haven’t walked away yet. Besides, elves are heirlooms, a good one, bought young, could serve your household twelve hundred years if it is kept alive.” The old man pointed out, and it was a point, albeit one that sickened Corwin.

He disguised his disgust with greed and said, “I have no children, my house will die with me, ten gold coins and I will leave him to you in my will, conditional upon his survival and assuming I have no cause to sell him.” Corwin kept his hands folded behind his back as he said that, clenching one hand into a fist, and holding it tight enough with the other hand to turn his knuckles white.

“There’ll be no cause to sell it, get them young and you can keep them tame for life, just be generous with discipline. As long as you sign a contract stipulating that you will only sell him back to us for the original price and to no other, and that you will leave him to us in your will if he is not sold before your death, then I will accept your bargain price.” The proprietor of the inn suggested, and Corwin gave a firm agreeable nod.

“Draw up the papers, my apprentice will have deposited the day's earnings here, take what you need from that.” Corwin offered, and the old man snapped his fingers.

“Write up a bill of sale for the elf male, the carriage driver, it has a new master today.” The old man’s calm way of trading life was enough to chill Corwin to his soul. ‘How can we both be from the same gods… and yet he seems like such a demon to me?!’ The question vexed him as the black clad secretary scrawled out the terms as agreed upon, and then…

It was done.

Corwin felt the urge to heave as he contemplated his actions with disgust. ‘You bought a child… you swore you would never engage in this vile business…’ The fact that he wanted to rescue the boy did not change that he had haggled over the worth of a child, and for a rare moment in his life…

‘I wish I was more like Speranzi… she sees a wrong and confronts it, faces it, tries to right it… you coward… coward… coward…’ Corwin cursed himself as he bent forward to sign the document as soon as his counterpart had put his name to it.

The tension in Corwin’s fingers as he signed was such that he snapped the quill, the white feather which made up the upper half of it tilted over and fell into the black ink, smearing across a fragment of the page.

“Apologies.” Corwin said while the secretary picked up the paper and gently blew on the ink to dry it quicker.

When he was done blowing the ink dry, he laid out a second blank sheet and held his hands over both. [Copy] The secretary whispered the spell, and the blank page glowed a faint blue, the light pulsing as the words on one sheet were mirrored on another.

“No matter, you may take the boy now, along with your copy of the bill of sale. As a courtesy, you may keep the clothes he has on his back… if you’ll throw in an unregistered twenty silver coins.” The old man gave Corwin a crooked smile, and for a moment, Corwin hesitated.

‘If I say no, then I have nothing for him to wear and…’ There was an unpleasant thought. ‘That would make for a very poor beginning.’ The merchant acknowledged to himself and then gave an agreeable nod. “I won’t object to that. Good day.”

Corwin wasted no time from there, hastening out of the inn as fast as he could go without seeming like he was trying to leave quickly.

Outside, Ahmarantha was waiting patiently, shifting around on his feet and glancing left and right, front and back, for any potential threats or harassers who might trouble him. Corwin’s return saw him greeted with the young boy’s wide, staring, questioning expression. His mutilated half ears went down as much as they were able to.

“Master?” The boy asked.

“Come with me to one of my wagons. I’m taking you out of here, Ahmarantha.” Corwin said with a steel resolve that was his only refuge from the bout of loathing in his heart. “I’ve bo- pai- I have gained custody of you.” He found the words he sought with the greatest of difficulty, and clearly, to the young elf, this meant very little.

It was only when dismay and confusion overtook his fear, and it was clear that Corwin was driving the wagon toward the city gate, that Ahmarantha managed to ask a question.

“Where are we going, my lord?” The boy asked, looking up at the still tense merchant in front of him.

“To a new, and hopefully better life.” Corwin said, and they rode in silence all the way back to the safety of Speranzi’s encampment.

Skana dipped her bread into her bowl and watched it soak up the brown broth. “That… wasn’t all that bad for your first time.” Micah said, scratching his head and not quite looking at her directly. They weren’t the only ones at the fire. It was one of a half a dozen or so rings of soldiers.

“Wait, so you two?” Speranzi yanked her head to her right to glare at a blonde soldier who sat innocently drinking his ration of ale.

“No.” She said emphatically, “He,” she jerked her thumb to her left where Micah sat, “is teaching me how to read. This was my first attempt.”

“Oh. Well that’s different then.” The young man answered, his face flushed red at his misunderstanding.

“I’d say our boy here was about to get jealous.” The woman beside him chuckled and his blush deepened. The fire crackled as the circle of soldiers began to laugh, Skana however, did not blush.

She looked the ‘jealous’ one up and down the way a drunken tavern-goer ‘admired’ one of the wenches that served drinks. “Sorry, you’re not my type.”

It was a crude and blunt statement accompanied by yet more laughter and an even deeper red blush to the young man’s face.

“I like them short, blonde, and female, and their name has to be Speranzi.” Skana said with an emphatic nod.

“Funny. Very funny. In love with the face of nightmares, but ‘I’m’ not your type.” He let out a surprisingly good natured laugh considering how much was at his expense. “There’s no accounting for taste.” He chuckled, but Skana did not, the start of laughter that went up at her blunt confession died when she didn’t join it.

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“Wait, are you serious?” Micah asked, looking Skana up and down as if she might be a monster in disguise.

“Of course.” Skana replied, “Nobody else will do.” She sighed as the dismayed and confused faces of the little group around the fire stared at her… she could feel the expectation coming off of them.

“It’s not that I’m some masochistic pervert that wants to sleep with the woman to almost kill me… twice.” Skana answered, albeit with some reluctance.

“Where were you all during the war against the Demon God?” Skana asked.

“The Divine Kingdom.”

“The Auxkos Empire.”

“The Kingdom of Agamidan.”

“South Qadish.”

“Gelia.”

The answers came in, and not one stated the kingdom of ‘North Qadish’. Skana gave a subtle nod.

“She was there. I was there. We lived through that war, when the paladins of every order in North Qadish fought, when the demons ate the children of our people on the altars of our gods, turning places of worship into their dining tables to mock the gods of men. I wasn’t this, back then.” Skana said with a vigorous shake of her head.

“Back then I was just a peasant girl, just the noble’s livestock, we lived, farmed, paid taxes, and made more peasants to keep the nobles fat and happy and the army stocked with bodies when they needed a bunch of us. I guess,” Skana leaned back and looked up at the moons overhead and their soft glowing light, “I guess that’s not all fair. Queen Marias was supposed to be devoted to the happiness of our homeland, for all of us. I s’pose she wasn’t so bad. For all the good that did her. But I wasn’t any different than any other peasant child who accepted the world I knew as how everyone was. All I cared about was having fun, taking whatever happiness I could, whenever I could, however I could, and with whomever I could.”

She let that hang in the air until the silent understanding was clear.

“That’s why I lived when my village died. There was a young man in my village, I had my eye on him, but he was married, he had eyes only for his wife. I was young and dumb, well… younger and dumber.” Skana chuckled a little.

“I flirted with him relentlessly and he always pretended I didn’t, god he was beautiful, tall, broad shouldered, powerful arms, sharp eyes, and smart, for an uneducated peasant. I’d known him my whole life, but he was so serious and I just… I wasn’t. So nothing ever happened. Finally I had enough, I quit flirting and I just asked him to meet me in the woods. I had a favorite spot outside the village where I’d meet people.”

“And he joined you at last?” Micah guessed.

Skana shook her head. “No. And I guess I was dumb to think he would. But I waited until I saw the smoke through the trees. I rushed to where I could see, and… and there was my village… burning. I heard the screams, and couldn’t identify even one of them. In all that chaos, every voice is different. My house was on fire, it was getting dark, but I could still see everyone. The fire made sure of that. The demihumans were killing everyone… I know he died protecting his wife. That’s the sort of man he was. And you know something really strange?” Skana asked.

“What?” Micah prompted.

“That was also the first time I hated myself. My sins kept me alive. Alive to watch everyone I knew die in fire, terror, and pain. If you’d been there, if she had been there, there might have been a fight. But with the orcs tearing their way through my home, driven on by the imps and other minor demons against peasants taken by surprise in our homes?” She spat into the fire and when it hissed angrily at the liquid invasion, Skana finished, “We never had a prayer. I ran off and hid in the woods, I ran, and ran, and ran until I couldn’t hear the screams anymore. I lived the next two years on the run, picking up news from other survivors. The royal army was destroyed, the paladins were beaten… even other heroes and adventurers from other countries were struggling and often dying. But the resistance that sprang up, hundreds of little groups… including?” Skana looked across the camp and pointed to the fire where only one woman sat alone tending her meal.

“Right, I heard about this part.” Micah said with a nod, “A bunch of hit and run attacks on supply columns, little invasions into the demihumans lands to force the invasion to send people back. That kind of thing, it all eroded the Demon God’s army until things could really turn around.”

“North Qadish has always had good fighters.” Skana said with a little hint of pride, “Every man is taught to handle a spear for a few weeks out of every year just because we border the demihumans. So of course everybody started fighting back.”

“Including you?” Micah guessed, and Skana shook her head again.

“No. I just wanted to live, I was a worthless scavenger, picking at ruins for bits of food, living off what the dead left behind… I’m… I’m not proud of it. I can’t even excuse it as being the act of a scared young girl, it was just who I was then. Till I got caught and thrown into the pens in Prioche.” Skana shuddered.

“Whatever you heard of how we were treated by the demons and demihumans who held us, it was worse. They kept us hungry, too weak to fight back. I should have died then, I nearly did. I was nearly a meal on an altar, except the resistance made Prioche the first big target and attacked the city, I don’t know the details, but a lot of people died before they won.”

“And then you met her, she set you free and-” Micah guessed.

But his guess was interrupted by Skana’s shaking head. “No. You’re really bad at this, Micah.” Skana’s laugh was a mix of bitterness and amusement when she said, “This isn’t one of the stories your minstrels spun in your rich daddy’s hall. Nothing like that. If anything, the first time I saw her, I hated her. It wasn’t until she gained the name ‘The Maiden of the Door’ and I saw her make her stand there, I saw her earn her name and her fame, that everything changed.”

Skana lowered her head from her gazing at the moons in the sky, “I worked as a laborer in the city, I looked at our protectors with envy, scorn, and bitterness. They were strong, of course they could fight back. They had swords and bows and spears… they had training and I… I had a lot of excuses. Excuses I can’t offer now.” Skana admitted.

“You probably heard about the countersiege on Prioche?” Skana suggested, and a round of nods went up.

“Probably about how we were rescued by Remashi of the Divine Kingdom and the war turned around… all the shit bards and minstrels love to prattle on about?” Skana guessed, and nods went around the fire.

“That’s all lies. At least… mostly. Yes, Remashi showed up with a blessed host and yes, the demihumans were beaten, but the only reason that happened was because of our resistance on the walls of the city. Remashi got there just as Speranzi fell at the tower door. I saw her fall, the last defender… she tumbled down the steps and landed near my very feet just as the horns of the Divine Kingdom blew and the invaders had to turn and face a new threat. That was the first time I saw her up close.”

Skana ran her hands through her auburn hair, ‘I shouldn’t talk so much.’ She told herself and shifted her foot in the dirt beneath her feet. But it felt so good to just tell the story.

“She stood on top of the wall and fought so hard, she really can be scary, the way her eyes seem to pulse and she moves like a living statue… harder than stone and twice as stubborn. She must be, because when she finally fell, she survived the tumble down the tower… and I saw her unconscious body there…” Skana ran her fingers over her cheek.

“She had holes in her cheeks that exposed her jaw, she had blood so thick in her eyes that she must have been fighting blind at the end. Her armor was a patchwork of holes where spears had finally gotten through. Her right hand was missing three fingers, her left hand was missing four. She had stab wounds in her legs and arms… but do you know what was intact?”

“Her back.” Micah guessed.

“Finally, you got one.” Skana said and favored him with a little smile.

“All her wounds were gained facing her enemies. She never considered running away to save herself, to save me. That was when I knew that nobody else would do. I would be at her side or die in the attempt. I fought with the resistance, I turned my skills at navigating the woods into being a first rate scout until the war ended. Then I tried to learn the sword but?”

Skana glanced toward the two women around the fire.

“Nobody would teach you.” They guessed, their own voices echoed Skana’s frustration, their hard eyes stared at her with shared understanding. In that moment, Skana knew she’d found at least two allies in the band of the Black Quivers.

“Right. So I disguised myself as a man, well, a young boy, snuck into Bodger’s camp… he killed two sentries who failed to notice me, and joined up with his band to learn from the only people who would teach anyone who asked. Brigands. The night you all caught me, I was actually planning to make my escape. I'd learned enough from them and thought that kind of chaos was perfect. I hadn’t actually expected my hero would put an arrow in my side.” Skana tapped the spot on her body where the wound had been.

“Anyway, people give Remashi credit for the victory since it was she who brought down the Demon God and sealed him away, they say she saved the city… and maybe she did. But there wouldn’t have been a city to save if not for the maiden of the door and the resistance that kept our homeland alive.”

“I still can’t believe Speranzi survived all that. So many injuries should have killed her, I guess there really must be a god’s blood in her family line. So I just can’t see her how you all do. I just can’t. To me? To me she is the ideal.” Skana finished her story and reached down for her mug of ale, she drank her ration down and tossed it into the little round wooden tub with the other empties where it clattered around until it came to a rest.

The rest of the circle looked at her with various expressions that ranged from doubtful and dubious, to understanding and agreement, until someone suggested…

“Music?”

“Sure. But I don’t feel like dancing.” Skana said and rose to her feet, she looked down at Micah who, to her surprise, was looking at her as if he’d never seen her before. “Thank you for the lesson. I’ll work hard tomorrow.”

And with that, she headed toward the fire where Speranzi ate alone.