Marri's Approach (Brackish Bay) (7 page)

Fate – monstrous

and empty,

you whirling wheel,

you are malevolent,

well-being is vain

and always fades to nothing,

shadowed

and veiled

you plague me, too;

now through the game

I bring my bare back

to your villainy.

I glanced at the sky, the full moon and the clouds moving over it, the choppy water around me as I forced the oars through the waves again and again and again, not daring to rest lest I be swept along.

Why am I bothering, Fortuna? Maybe it would be better if I just forgot this whole charade, if I just went on to another city, if I hired on in their guard and fucked all their rough soldiers.

Fate is against me

in health

and virtue,

driven on

and weighted down,

always enslaved.

So at this hour

without delay

pluck the vibrating strings;

since Fate

strikes down the strong man,

everyone weep with me!

Always enslaved? No, Fortuna, I am better than that. Even as a slave, I saved Aluet from a hostile takeover. No matter how you beat me down, I am stronger than most.

It was with that burst of adrenaline that I reached the far bank. Pulling the little boat up onto the rocks as far as I could, I slipped and fell. Exhausted and uncoordinated, the fall took the rest of my rapidly waning energy.

I thought I should find a spot closer to the camp and farther from the boat. But then I also risked getting hurt on the way. I climbed a tree and settled in for the remainder of the night.

Daylight slapped me in the face, and I winced, scrubbing at my gritty eyes. It was hotter than normal, sweltering, and it wasn't even close to noon. Fortuna, you're a hot whore. I leaned against the tree, trying to go back to sleep. Of course, with the sun beating down on me, it wasn't possible. After a time, I sighed and prepared to climb down the tree. I paused. Something wasn't quite right. I froze, my sleepy brain suddenly on high alert. What was it?

I scanned the forest for threats. No humans in either direction. No dogs, either. No snakes that I could see or hear, though some of them were silent. No wolves.

There. A bear. A great, hulking black bear. I swallowed hard. I was in a tree. Black bears climb trees. I breathed slowly, trying to remember what my mother said. There weren't as many of them as there used to be. They were not adapted to the intense heat, and it didn't get cold enough for them to hibernate anymore, so they lived reduced life spans, cranky and anxious. Mostly they did not attack humans, but a lone human? I suppose it depended on how hungry the bear was.

Fortuna? Should I try to threaten it, or hope it loses interest on its own? I took a deep breath. I could probably run faster than it, but I wasn't sure how quickly it could get to me. Would I be able to get out of the tree fast enough?

It made a mumbling sound, and I grunted back. It squeaked, and I began to laugh. That startled it, and it drew back a little, snuffling the air. Forget it, Fortuna; I'm not staying here to converse with a bear. I leapt down from the tree and began to run towards the camp.

For a little while the bear lumbered after me, but apparently it decided it would be easier to pursue a less-fleet meal, and after that, I didn't hear it anymore. I gradually slowed to a lope, resting my aching muscles with the easier pace.

When I reached the camp it was deserted. Gods be damned, Fortuna. I was really hoping I would have a meal waiting. I sighed and began to gather wood for the fire.

The fish in the little stream nearby were tiny little minnows that weren't worth the trouble to try to catch, so I consoled myself with the last bit of the potatoes we'd dug the other day. I would need to find more food, since I was the first back. But first, sleep. I curled up near the little fire, and it was there that they found me.

I woke to the feel of a whiskered nose pressing against my back. I flinched, then suddenly came to full alertness. My eyes flew open. There, across the fire, two men stood. The dappled light obscured their features, but it was certain I didn't recognize them. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and the sniffing nose resolved into a dog. A hound. A hunting dog. Ah, dammit, Fortuna. I started to push myself up, very slowly, making no sudden moves, when a voice behind me dropped me to the dirt again.

“Be still.”

I felt cold chills running down my spine. Not only did I not recognize the voice, but in the brief glance I'd gotten, I didn't recognize the armor the men wore, either.

Fortuna, I think these men are not citizens of Brackish Bay.

The voice behind me spoke again. “What's a woman doing out here camping all alone?”

Thank you, Fortuna, that we clean up our camp every time we leave. I don't think they know there are more than me.

“I was kicked out of my tribe. I'm on my way to Brackish Bay.”

“Tribe?”

“Horsemen.” Please don't call my bluff; please don't call my bluff.

“You don't look like a horsewoman. They wouldn't be caught dead wearing pants, or a vest with no shirt.”

I looked appropriately ashamed. “I know. It was so awful! They took my clothes. It was a kind hunter who took pity on me and gave me something to cover my shameful nakedness!” I tried to call up tears, but damn, Fortuna, that doesn't come easily.

“So why didn't the hunter claim you? Or is he around here?”

The men across the fire shifted warily.

I shook my head. “He was eaten by a bear.”

“A bear?”

I nodded, getting into the story. “It was a great, hulking black bear. It growled, and he shot it, but it didn't kill the bear, so it ran at him, and raked him and bit him and ate him!” This time I managed to squeeze out a tear.

The voice scoffed. “You didn't get hurt.”

I let myself leach even more shame into my voice. “I ran away. I'm a god-cursed coward.”

“Come here.”

The man behind me yanked me to my feet even as I pretended to sob into my hands. I swiped at my mostly dry eyes—misdirection is everything, Fortuna—and let myself be a dead weight. He shook me.

“Stand up.”

“I'm sorry, I'm just so—so—”

“Shut up.”

He spun me around to face him and slapped me across the face. It was all I could do not to squirm with pleasure. Instead, I hunched into myself, pretending to be cowed.

My voice dropped to a hoarse whisper. “I'm sorry.”

He gave me a firm shake. “Do as we say and you'll live.”

I nodded, pitiful. “Yes, sir.”

“Come.”

The men across from me kicked mud onto the fire, then turned to lead the way into the woods, away from Brackish Bay. Fortuna, you're a harpy.

It wasn't until some hours later, most of which included me stumbling and being prodded along, that we reached a larger camp. No, Fortuna, of course I'm not going to waste my skill doing something that I don't need to. There's no need to be swift and silent when you're already caught. I gulped as we came closer. It was a large camp, not as big as General Tell's full force, but certainly as large as one of her skirmish armies. I balked.

“W-wh-what are you doing? Who are you fighting?”

“We're attacking Brackish Bay, and we don't need little girls like you in the way.”

I swallowed hard. “No, sir, I don't want to be in the way, not at all. I'll just go. To your kitchen. And make myself useful.” The man released me, but watched as I turned in multiple directions. “Um, sir? Where—where is your kitchen?”

He snorted and pointed. I nodded, bobbed a curtsy as if I'd been wearing skirts, and then quickstepped in that direction. The other men fondled me as I walked past, and I flinched away, wincing and exclaiming in distress.

The one who'd spoken snapped at them. “Don't.”

They shrugged, and I escaped. Inside my belly was a coiling need for sex, raised to a ridiculous pitch by their heavy-handed groping. Dammit Fortuna, why did you have to build me like this, such that harshness piques my blood?

I found the kitchen and ducked in. There were dozens of women, all bustling and working at a high speed. I grimaced.

“Hello? Who's in charge, please?”

A few of them eyed me, some with curiosity, some with hostility.

“I'm in charge.” A tall woman with broad hips and broad shoulders strode by. “Stay out of my way.”

I jumped back. “My apologies, madam.”

“Is there a reason you're standing in my kitchen?” She strode past me the other direction, and I stepped back farther.

“I'm sorry. I—they found me in the forest. I wanted to make myself useful.”

She turned around from stirring the great cauldron over one of the many fires. “Useful, eh? Get over here and stir this. Make sure it doesn't stick, doesn't burn. Or I'll burn your hide. Understand?”

I scurried over to the cauldron and took the proffered ladle. “Yes, madam, thank you, madam. I won't let it burn or stick.”

I began to stir.

Fortuna, if you've never stirred a pot for hours, I don't recommend it. My shoulders hurt. My arms hurt. My hands hurt. My ribs hurt. I just hurt. It was not the way I wanted to spend my evening. First the chef had me on a sort of risotto, and then a pot of corn meal mush. Then there were stews, and soups, and dessert sauces. Since when do armies eat this well? I wished I knew why she was here. She was obviously a cut above most camp cooks I'd ever known in my life. Maybe several cuts.

It wasn't until very late when the only light was the fires around us that she let me rest. She handed me a bowl full of soup and a hunk of bread.

“You did well.”

“Thank you, madam.” My fingers were almost too tired to hold the spoon. “Where should I sleep?”

She frowned at me then. “You don't belong to anyone?”

I hesitated. “The man who brought me here, he didn't
say
anything about it.”

She looked relieved. “Oh, well he doesn't have to say. It's an invading army. You belong to the one who captured you, unless he decides to give you away.”

“Oh.” Somehow, it sounded like she'd given that talk to new girls a hair too many times for my comfort. “How do I find him?”

“What's his name?”

“He didn't say.”

She sighed, exasperated. “Rank? Anything? I can't help you if you don't know who he was. There are far too many men in this army.”

I screwed up my face, trying to remember. “He had a funny square on his armor that was green and brown.”

“Green and brown? He's one of the scouts then. What color hair?”

“Dark. Long,” I said. “It was tied in a plait, all the way down his back.”

“Ah, why didn't you say so? That's Lorenzo.”

“All right.”

“Come on. I'll point out his tent for you.”

I picked up my bowl and followed her. She pointed across the camp to a particular tent that looked like all the other tents. How she could tell them apart was beyond me.

“That's Lorenzo's tent,” she said. “He is a harsh master, so be good.”

“Yes, madam. Thank you.”

I fixed the location of his tent in my mind and then began to walk towards it, weaving in and around the other tents and the people. Most were men, soldiers, and there were a few women soldiers, but not many. There were women and children, but not many of them, either. I came at last to the row where Lorenzo's tent was, and took a deep breath, trying to tamp down the lust that had reawakened at the chef's parting words. Just as I was about to step in, he stepped out and knocked straight into me, splashing the soup all over my face and arms and chest. I crumpled to the ground, crying for real this time. Food! Fortuna, food when I'm exhausted should be sacred, should not be trifled with! Gods be damned.

He wrapped a hand around my arm and jerked me to my feet. “Stop your crying.”

I sniffled, hiccuped, and whimpered, but I stopped. “I'm sorry, sir.”

His sharp face didn't gentle. “I'm partially to blame. Are you burnt?”

I shook my head. “No, sir.”

“Good.” He pulled me towards the tent flap. “Come.”

I entered. Inside was far more sumptuous than I would have believed before, with a great soft blanket, several pillows of some sort of fleece or velvet, and a sort of gauzy curtain in the corner. With a pang, I realized it reminded me of Aleksei's bedroom at Madame Bon's mansion, though his had gone over the line of elegant and into indulgent. This was just enough, Fortuna, to soften the hard edge of traveling for war. He noticed my wandering eyes.

“I can be soft.” He didn't sound soft.

“Yes, sir.”

He pushed me down to my knees, then removed my boots. Setting them aside, he brought a bowl of water and a rag to help clean my skin. I couldn't help but gasp at the rough touch and the longing it inspired. He reached for my vest, and I flinched away. There was no way my lie would hold up to armor.

“No, please, sir.”

My clitoris begged inside my head,
yes, please, sir
. Traitor. He paused, eyebrow raised.

“What's the difference between a gag bit and a snaffle?”

I gaped for a moment, my cheeks flushing, then closed my mouth. “The gag bit—gags the horse, and the snaffle—doesn't?”

He laughed. “I didn't think so.”

“You're not a horseman either, are you?”

“No, not at all,” he said. “But one of my friends in the army was, and he used to pontificate endlessly on which bits were the best for which use.”

“Ah.”

“So who are you?”

“I'm just an orphan. Father killed in the woods one day, mother serving men in the city. I got lost.”

“And you have no one who you belong to?”

I shook my head, eyes wide. “No one.” He reached for my vest again. I leaned back. “I, um. Just because I'm not from the horse tribes doesn't mean I want to have sex with you.”

“Oh? Who said anything about sex? I'm just trying to clean you up, make amends for my clumsiness.”

Why does my cunt clench on every silken word he says? It's just because it's been far too long without relief.

“I, uh, I'm fine. Thank you.”

He caught my fluttering hands and pushed them to my sides. “I found you in the woods. You belong to me.”