Marri's Approach (Brackish Bay) (2 page)

We separated, each planning to attack the city from a different direction. Dawn and Petunia were the strongest swimmers, so they were going to cross the river and enter each of the outposts on the northeast bank. Carol and Sami were going to enter the outposts on this bank. Zarilla and I were going to appear on the island, the most difficult of locations. We'd each picked a different side in order to maximize the potential for success, and we set out just before dawn when it was light enough to see, but still dark enough to offer some concealment.

I slipped into the water and let myself drift along, carried in the current. There were rocks and workers, but I let myself float rather than swim, so there was no splashing to attract attention. I slipped under the large bridge, narrowly avoiding the tall concrete pylons that must have cost a fortune to build. I had left my armor at our gathering place, judging it too heavy for this swim. The last one had been difficult, and the armor was too conspicuous for a mission.

Zarilla was taking the nearest edge of the island, while I was taking the farthest. I caught myself against a log three quarters of the way around the island to rest and plan my entry now that I could see the far end of the island. There was a small stretch of gravel beach; that was probably the best place. It would take some strong swimming to reach it due to the current, but there weren't many people on this edge, so I didn't think I'd attract attention. And if I did, I was wearing a sort of generic tunic like women wore in many cities, so I was sure that I would be overlooked.

I let my body drift out from the log, my mind focused on the beach to the exclusion of everything else, even the coolness of the water on the remnants of my bruises from the last time William had punished me. Then I saw it. One big glassy eye stared at me from the other side of the log, and my heart stopped. That is one big, mean, scary crocodile, Fortuna. Now or never. I let go of the log, and the current swept me away just as the open jaw snapped shut. A tremor wracked my body even as I praised Fortuna's name. And then it was time to work. As predicted, the current would miss the beach, so I began to swim, taking long, smooth strokes that angled towards the low point on the land. Nearly there, I grew over-confident, and then the undertow yanked me back towards the river.

No, Fortuna! I struck hard for the beach. It was exhausting. When my legs brushed sand, I wept and stood up to stumble forward. Crawling as far from the water as I could, I curled in a ball to rest.

Noon light battered me awake. I flinched away from the over-amorous sun and rubbed the sand from my skin. At least I wasn't crocodile food. I tugged at my tunic and bemoaned my lack of forethought in not removing it to dry before I'd gone to sleep. It was a wrinkled mess, a strange mix of dry and wet. I considered wetting it down again and letting it dry before I attempted to infiltrate the island, but my impatience got the best of me. When does it not, Fortuna?

I scrambled up the steep incline to the regular level of ground and looked around. There were clusters of houses, a dock in the distance, some buildings for processing fish and other catch from the river, and a number of laundry lines with fabric flapping in the breeze in the distance.

What would prove I've been here, Fortuna? I walked steadily along, observing everything I could see while not gawking like a tourist. Someone's dress would do nicely, but I would also probably end up causing someone a beating for losing it, and I didn't want to do even that little harm. I saw a woman sitting outside her door, spinning wool into yarn. Her feet pressed, back and forth, up and down on the pedals while her hands moved back and forth, feeding the lump of wool onto the bobbin. I stopped to watch, fascinated. Having spent the later half of my life in the cities or the army, I was far more familiar with markets than with actual craftspersons.

She called me. “Good day, mistress.”

I came forward. “Good day, madam.”

She giggled. “My name is Sarafina. I'm no one's madam.”

“Well met, Sarafina. My name is Marri.” I watched her steady rhythm for a long time. “You're so precise. It's amazing to watch.”

She giggled again. “Thank you.”

A small child peeked around the frame of the door. “Mama?”

She didn't turn, evidently recognizing the child from its voice. “Yes, Yasmine?”

“I'm hungry.”

“All right, sweeting. Let Mama finish this basket of wool.” She continued to spin while the child eyed me curiously.

“Who's that lady?”

I smiled at the little one, who was maybe five years old. “My name is Marri.”

“What do you do?”

“I find out things.”

“What things?”

I wondered what the child knew of soldiers. Probably not enough. I thought about Katherine.

“Stories.”

The child's face lit up. “Stories? Like William?”

I grinned. “Yes, like William. But he tells them much better than I do.”

“He's gone. He hasn't visited in a long time.”

“Oh, no. I'm sorry to hear that. I'm sure he'll be back soon.”

Sarafina made a small sound, so I paused. She spoke up.

“Remember that William the Poet travels, sweeting. He might be gone for a long, long time. But when he comes back, he will be sure to tell you a good story about whatever you want.”

“All right.” The child sounded disappointed. “Can Marri tell me a story?”

“Perhaps. Why don't you ask?”

“Marri, can you tell me a story?”

“I can, if your mama allows it.”

Sarafina smiled. “A short one, while I finish this.”

“All right.” I settled onto the ground. “Once there was a woman who was a soldier.”

“A soldier?”

“Yes. Just like the men, she was strong and could swing a sword or shoot a bow or even, sometimes, when they had ammunition, she could shoot a gun.”

“Wow.”

“And one day her general told her to go get information.”

“Information?”

“Stuff about their enemies. How many soldiers they had, what kind of weapons, and what they would do when the woman's army attacked.”

“Did she?”

“Yes, she did. She was good at it, too. She went to the enemy and found out everything her general wanted, and then she went back to her army. Her army attacked the enemy, and they won, thanks to the solider. So from then on, she became a spy.”

“What's a spy?”

“A solider who sneaks up to the enemy and gets information is a spy.”

“Ooh.”

“So the spy became a very good spy and learned lots of things.”

“Did she get married?”

“I don't know. I don't think she wants to get married.”

“She doesn't?”

I glanced at Sarafina, wondering what their moral rules are. I hoped she did not come from horse tribe stock.

“No, she wants to keep being a spy, and most husbands would say no to that.”

“Mama is still a
textile artist
.” I loved how the little voice put emphasis on the words, and Sarafina grinned with pleasure. “Daddy wants her to do what she is good at. That's what good husbands do, isn't that right, Mama?”

She grinned, finishing the last clump of wool. “It sure is, Yasmine. Daddy's a great husband. And when you grow up, you can find a great husband, too.” She picked up the child and they rubbed noses, cuter than cute. “Just like your big sisters did. They found husbands that are good men, just like your brothers grew up to be, and are growing up to be.”

I heard a boyish voice from inside the house. “I wouldn't want to marry a soldier!”

Sarafina giggled. “Hah, I knew you were listening, Rafiq.” A boy came into view, arms crossed and eyebrows raised. “You don't have to marry a soldier. But if you did, I know you would support her to be the best soldier she could be.”

The boy turned towards the table without answering. Sarafina dished up soup from a pot on a woodstove, then began to cut fat into handfuls of flour from a jar high on the shelf.

“Biscuits?” The boy was incredulous.

Sarafina shushed him. “We have a guest.”

I smiled at him, recognizing that ground wheat flour was probably far more expensive and harder to come by than rice in this place. Wheat was harder to grow, now that the land was swampy and flooded.

“I am honored. What can I do to help?”

“Nothing, nothing. Just wash up and sit down, thank you. I welcome you to our home, Marri.”

“Thank you so very much for your hospitality.”

“Oh, quite welcome.”

In short order there were biscuits baking in a pan on top of the stove, and a bowl of steaming bean and fish soup in front of me. The scent reached in my nostrils and put claws into my stomach. I dug in, then tried to remember my former madam's rules for eating properly. I sat up straighter, took smaller bites, and chewed more demurely. It paid off when Sarafina complimented my manners.

“Thank you. I'm a bit rusty, I fear.”

It had been many months since I lived with Madame Bon, the owner of the brothel I belonged to and worked in for a year.

“You're better than a lot of the slaves that come through here. There are some who were never taught manners at all, who eat so sloppily I can't imagine how they enjoy their food.”

I blushed, glad I'd had someone to teach me a little better. I wonder, Fortuna, what she would say if she knew I had learned when I was a whore? I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing at the thought.

“I'm sure. Are there many slaves who come through here?”

“Not many, not since Jessica died.”

Fortuna? Who is Jessica? Not the queen William told me about? Oh, Fortuna, what did you do? William always waxed rhapsodic about the powerful bond of love between Roy and Jessica.

“Oh?”

“Yes. There used to be more when Lord Roy was more active, but he delegates a lot of our governing to the mayors of each outpost now. Slavery is one of the main punishments for lawbreaking here.”

“What are the others?”

“Corporal punishment for small crimes or rule breaking, slavery for serious infractions. Slavery and being sold in a different city for serious infractions are a severe enough threat when keeping the criminal here would not be best. Death for the worst of infractions.”

My skin prickled, and I felt a touch of cold wiggle along my spine. “The worst infractions? What are those?”

“Murder. Violent rape. Sometimes violence against the community. Certainly our lord has put to death a great many warriors and soldiers who attacked our House.”

I swallowed hard and wondered whether what I was playing at was still such a good idea. Still, my pride goaded me on. I am not attacking his house; I am doing it a service, right, Fortuna?

“He holds trials?”

“Hearings. Usually there are just the mayor and the soldiers, someone to record the events, and a representative from the offender’s house, and any witnesses.”

“What if he's wrong?”

She shrugged, uncomfortable with the idea that her lord could be wrong about anything. “He would rather err on the side of protecting his people than on the side of letting somebody go free to harm one of his own.”

“What if it's one of his own who has committed the crime?”

“That's why slavery and corporal punishment are options, also. He does not leap lightly to a death sentence.”

I nodded, chewing slowly on the deliciously fluffy biscuit. “He sounds strict.”

She laughed. “Strict is an understatement. But surely you know all this from the information they give you when you become a citizen or come into our territory.”

Oh, Fortuna. “I've heard it, but it is always good to hear from one who's lived under his rule for a long time, to understand the perspective from one close to him.”

She blushed. “Oh, I'm not close to him, but I have been here for a long time, since before he built the main house. This is one of the oldest houses on the island.”

She gestured with pride, and then nothing would do but the children had to show me around the place, the upper floor with their beds, the lower with their bathing room, the kitchen where we were, and the room with all the shelves where she kept her supplies and finished items and everything in between. It was vast and beautiful, and when she offered me a tiny bit of crocheted lace, explaining how she had made it, I knew I had my bit of proof. Surely there was no one else in the whole of Brackish Bay with her skill.

I thanked her profusely, and had just turned towards the door when a great big man blocked it. I stopped short while the children ran around me and launched themselves at what had to be their father. He laughed and scooped them up and raised his brow at his wife while hugging and playing with the little ones. She came next to me.

“Marri is new to the island. I was just talking to her about Roy's rules and showing her my work.”

“New?” He frowned at me. “Who do you belong to?”

“No one, sir. I am unclaimed.”

“A free woman? What is your trade?”

“I am a soldier, sir.”

His gaze narrowed on me, and I felt more than saw Sarafina shift, remembering my story.

“A soldier? Why are you not with Gerard?”

That was name of the man William told me was head of all the soldiers and guards in Brackish Bay.

“I was given leave to get my bearings before reporting for duty, sir.”

This was dangerous ground. I wondered how much they knew about how Gerard conducted his army's business.

“That is not how he usually deals with new soldiers.”

Busted. Nothing for it but to bluff my way through.

“No, sir, but because I come straight from Amanda Tell's army, we came to a slightly different agreement.”

“Amanda Tell? Who is that?”

“She's a highly renowned general. She expects all her soldiers to get a feel for the lay of the land, to understand the ground they're defending before they do so.”

Fortuna, he seems to be able to tell I'm lying. I'm not completely lying, though. It
is
an idea I'd suggested to her.

“Is that so? I don't believe Gerard has ever had a rule like that.”

His bulk was still blocking the doorway, and it made me antsy. I could feel myself being closed in, and as a spy, being closed in was the worst. Added to that, I was out of options. I couldn't kill him, I couldn't threaten her, I dared not touch the children in even the slightest intimation of danger. Not that I could, Fortuna. Smart little rug rats that they were, they had backed into a corner out of reach. I couldn't seduce him, either, not with the children there.