Foretellers (The Ydron Saga Book 3) (5 page)

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 branching 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 whom 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 depths. 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, she 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.”

More than three weeks passed before their journey ended, almost a week longer than Maryam had predicted. One wagon had failed on a rocky stretch east of Lake Atkal and it had taken five days to locate a wainwright to construct a wheel and a smith who could forge a new rim. Now, they were arriving at Maryam’s home, deep in the heart of Deth, the land Roanna feared most, and it almost caused her to panic. So far from Pandy, so near to Lord Cargath, she could not imagine a worse predicament.

A screech overhead caught her attention. Two birds she identified as contores—raptors that feed on carrion—wheeled overhead and she imagined for a moment they were looking at her. After all, for all intents and purposes, she was a dead woman. Her life as she knew it was over.

“Let’s unload,” shouted Maryam. “I’m tired and I want a bath.”

The command returned Roanna to the present as servants started climbing from the wagons, grabbing parcels and crates and carrying them toward the house. Roanna stretched her limbs as far as her fetters would allow and appraised the property.

The size of the house surprised her. Until now, the number of servants Maryam commanded had suggested a certain degree of wealth, so Roanna had expected to arrive at a sizeable residence. This, however, was far more massive than anything her mind had constructed. A flagstone walk, perhaps a dozen feet wide, ran from the spot where the wagons were parked through two stands of barrel stave trees before ending at the massive sandstone blocks that were the entrance’s pillars and lintel. The sprawling four story structure was easily the width of any half dozen homes she knew in danTennet and she suspected at least some of the outbuildings were servants’ quarters.

A hand grabbed her wrist and the shackle released. She turned to see Simo, key in hand, busily unfastening her chains.

“Maryam wants you,” he said when the last lock flicked open.

Without further comment, he jumped to the ground and headed for the house. Roanna looked up and noticed that Maryam had not yet budged. Still on her wagon, she was glaring at the house and pointing with great animation.

“Who’s horses are those?” she demanded as she gestured at two massive steeds hitched near the entrance.

Their green and white barding and trappings marked them as Essem Cargath’s war horses.

More to the point, where are their riders? Roanna wondered, as a growing unease crept over her. Seeing Maryam was vexed and suspecting any further delay on her part would only compound the woman’s anger, Roanna forced her limbs into motion and went to assist her.

“How may I help you?” she asked, looking up.

“You can start by helping me down.”

“I’m sorry. I… ”

“Did I ask for an explanation?” Maryam asked as her amber eyes narrowed.

“No, Ma’am,” Roanna demurred, offering a perfunctory bow before reaching to lend her hand.

The woman’s grip was stronger than Roanna had expected and she almost cried out as Maryam’s fingers dug into hers. Stifling her discomfort, she managed a smile as she helped her mistress climb down. Maryam grasped her shoulder and leaned close as if about to speak, then halted abruptly and stared at her home. When Roanna’s eyes followed, she saw Simo and two servant girls running toward them. Faces contorted with terror, they kept glancing back. Halfway to the wagon, one girl threw her arms into the air, pitched onto her face and slid as she landed. Before the girl collapsed, Roanna saw something protruding from her chest. An impact on the sideboards snapped her head around to where an arrow’s shaft quivered, embedded inches away. She looked toward the house and saw two archers fitting crossbows with bolts as another raised a longbow.

Seizing Maryam by the arm, Roanna tried to pull her to cover, even as the woman struggled to break free. It took all of her strength, but Roanna wrestled her around the wagon and shoved her against it.

“This is my house,” Maryam shouted, as she fought to pull away.

“And your servants can bury you next to it,” cried Roanna, her hand around the woman’s throat, “unless you stop for a minute and help me decide what to do next.”

Cries and shrieks brought their eyes above the sideboard just as Simo and Sylene arrived beside them. At the house, two emerging servants caught the archers’ attention.

“We have to leave,” said Roanna.

Simo nodded. “This wagon’s our only chance. I’ll drive. You three climb in back.”

Maryam was opening her mouth to object when Roanna clamped it shut with her hand.

“Either you do as Simo tells you or we’ll leave you to fend for yourself.”

Screams returned their eyes to where soldiers were cutting down servants. Simo and Sylene conferred while Maryam appeared torn between wanting to remain and complying with their wishes.

Without waiting for her to decide, Roanna turned to Sylene, inclined her head toward Maryam and said, “Help me.”

Sylene nodded and each grabbed an arm and an ankle. When Roanna lifted, Sylene matched her, and they unceremoniously dumped her face down onto the wagon. As they climbed in beside, Simo cracked a whip and the horses broke took off. Lying on her belly, so as not to be ejected, Roanna reached past the bed’s open end and pulled the tailgate closed, latching it lest they or the wagon’s contents pitch overboard.

“No one’s following,” shouted Roanna, as she worked her way back to the driver’s seat.

By now, Maryam’s house was out of sight and Simo was urging the horses south, out of the grassland and into some low-lying hills dotted with trees.

“They’re too busy looting to bother with runaways like us,” he observed.

“Looting?” Maryam cried and tried to sit before Sylene drove a knee into her kidneys.

“Then why not slow down?” asked Roanna.

“I will,” Simo said, “when the horses start to tire. Until then, I intend to put as much distance between us and Cargath’s soldiers as I can.”

Maryam rose onto her elbows. “Armus and I have always been loyal supporters,” she lamented. “Simo, you know that. Why do you say they were looting?”

Simo glanced back and said, “All of your artwork is gone. Most of your furniture. What you didn’t see were the wagons out back and the dozen or so men who were carrying away your possessions.”

Maryam’s face fell. “How do you know they work for… ?”

The wagon struck a pothole, interrupting her.

“They were Cargath’s, alright. His crest was on each of the wagons. You did notice what the soldiers were wearing, didn’t you?”

“Curse you, Simo! Of course I saw. I just can’t believe it.”

Her face sagged and she fell into silence before the wagon bounced hard and she cried out in pain.

“Curse you, too, Sylene. Will you please remove your knee?”

The girl ignored her and Roanna asked, “Where are we going?”

“To my house,” said Sylene. “If there’s anything left of it.”

Her mouth twisted and she looked down at Maryam. Each time Maryam attempted to move, Sylene drove the knee into her.

“You think you’re the only one whose life she’s stolen?” Sylene asked. When Roanna cast a questioning look, she explained, “I wasn’t always her servant. I had a home and property of my own. After my husband agreed to serve under Armus, after Maryam was certain he had gone off to war, she confiscated all of our possessions and had Duval kidnap me. Armus sometimes appears to be honorable, but he and this one have plans to emerge wealthy from the wars.”

Roanna stared down at Maryam who scowled and looked away.

“How did they think they would get away with it?” Roanna asked. “Sooner or later your husband will find out.”

“How?” Shaking her head Sylene explained, “Armus controls all communications. Even if my husband were somehow to have learned of what she’d done, Armus would have him killed. He’d die in battle and no one would be the wiser. At the end of all this—if this ever does end—those two would wind up a lord and his lady. At least that was their plan until this morning.”

When Roanna glanced at Simo, then shot Sylene a questioning glance, she replied, “Simo’s only come under her employ recently. He wasn’t a party to any of this.”

“Everyone else?” asked Roanna.

“The other servants? Most were brought into service to repay various debts. As far as I know, you and I were the only ones the two of them kidnapped outright.”

“What happens next?”

“It all depends on what’s left. I’m going to try to put my life back together. I’m not sure what to do with this one,” she said, delivering another jab with her knee. Maryam grunted, but seemed too dejected to complain. “You’re welcome to stay, but I don’t think I can do much more for you than that.”

Half an hour later, Simo reined in the team. The horses were lathered and frothing and the group had taken as much pounding as they could endure. Simo spied a cluster of damass trees and steered the team beneath them. As the wagon creaked to a halt, a distant rumble caught Roanna’s attention. She turned and saw storm clouds to the north and her thoughts went to Pandy. In an earlier time, she thought, visions might have offered tantalizing hints. Now there was only longing and emptiness. Tears welled in her eyes and ran down her cheeks, so before the rest noticed, she wiped them away.

After an hour, the horses recovered. Simo was reaching for the reins when a devastating pain behind Roanna’s eyes turned her world scarlet. Her vision tunneled and she clutched her head with both hands, trying to keep it from bursting. Curled up in a ball, dimly aware of Sylene’s hand on her shoulder, she thought she heard Simo asking, “What’s wrong?”

As suddenly as it had struck, the torment passed. She was about to assure Simo she was fine, when her mind filled with the image of a dark complected man with a shaved head, a braided topknot and a thick black moustache. A large gold ring with a golden sun at its center, dangled from his left earlobe. In the next instant, she saw hundreds, perhaps thousands of soldiers marching or riding behind him. Then, as abruptly as the pain, the vision vanished.

“We have to go,” Roanna murmured, shaken by the experience’s vividness.

Her prior foresights had been murky at best, yet this… vision? waking dream?… had all the clarity of the world around her. While she did not know what to make of it, she knew it was real. Moreover, it felt like the present and not a future event.

“What did you say?” Simo asked, placing a hand on her forearm.

“Drive!” Roanna shouted, looking back, certain they were coming.

When Simo opened his mouth to ask again, she turned and grabbed him by the shoulder.

“Drive!” she demanded. “Drive as though your life depends on it! We have to get out of here.”

A noise behind them grew and this time she knew it was not distant thunder.

“If you love your life, if you want to live to see tomorrow… ”

Before she could finish, Simo lifted his gaze from hers and looked back. His eyes widened and he reached for the whip. He shouted at the horses as dust clouds formed above the hill behind them. When the horses started slowly, he lashed them until they broke into a gallop, then kept whipping until they had left the dust far behind.