[Shadowed Path 01] - A Woman Worth Ten Coppers by Morgan Howell Read Free Book Online

large and even heavier than it looked, for it contained chain mail. Occasionally, Honus peered back to see how she was holding up. Each time, he seemed pleased to find that she wasn’t lagging behind.
    “We’ll stop here,” he said, when they reached a broad tree with pale, new leaves. “You may rest awhile.”
    Yim removed the pack from her shoulders and untied its water skin. She raised it to her lips, hesitated, and handed the skin to Honus. He drank his fill before returning it. Yim quenched her thirst and slumped down in the thin shade. “I’m not used to this,” she said. Then, in an effort to bolster her standing, she added, “I was a princess in my land.”
    The lightning on Honus’s brow moved as an eyebrow arched upward. “A princess?” There was amusement in his voice.
    “Yes. And I didn’t have slaves, only servants. Faithful servants.”
    “The market for princesses must be poor if I can get one for ten coppers.”
    Yim looked away, feeling stupid.
     
    Honus was glad when his slave grew quiet. He turned his attention to the ruin across the road. It was roofless and overgrown with tangled vines, but its crumbling stone walls still retained a vestige of grace. Honus realized that the old tree under which they rested was the remnant of a double line that once had shaded a lane leading to the manor. He gazed at the fire-blackened house before him, closed his eyes, and tranced.
    The ruin’s inhabitants had long ago traveled the Dark Path, and the echoes of their memories were faint. Except for the very last, they were mostly glad ones. Honus sought out the pleasant remembrances, trying to find some solace in the happiness of others. His mind discovered a moment of lovers’ passion, as fragile and faded as a wildflower pressed in a book. He wistfully lingered with their bliss until his heart could stand it no longer. Then he let his mind fall back into the living world. The transition was always a quick one, and when Honus’s eyes shot open, he caught Yim studying him.
    Her inspection felt intrusive, and it annoyed Honus. Rising abruptly, he glared at her and gave his voice a hard edge. “You’ve rested long enough if you’ve time for impertinence.” He didn’t wait for Yim to shoulder the pack before he set off at a pace as fast as when he first left Durkin. Honus didn’t turn around either, but listened for Yim’s panting. Only when her breath came in gasps did he slow to a walk.
     
    Yim followed her capricious master upon a road that wound through a countryside that no longer even had a name. Most of the farmsteads they passed were abandoned, their humble buildings succumbing to the ravages of weather and man. The few that weren’t derelict seemed nearly as neglected. The rare travelers they met were headed in the opposite direction. Yim thought they might be refugees, for they were burdened with household goods. Honus didn’t speak, so Yim knew neither where he was headed nor why. All she could determine was that no one else was going there. The longer Honus and Yim walked, the fewer travelers they encountered. By late afternoon, they had the road to themselves.
    As Yim trudged along, she pondered her changed fortune. She had been anxious to leave the dark, fetid slave pen, but she was uncertain whether her lot had improved or worsened. The attack and what followed still seemed like a nightmare terminating in her complete humiliation. Her captors hadn’t even bothered to haggle over the pittance Peshnell offered. They sold me for the same price as a few sacks of oats. And now I belong to this Sarf, thought Yim.
    She had heard of Sarfs. Tales said they were deadly, but virtuous. Honus seemed the former, but not the latter. Since he walked in front, Yim couldn’t study his face, but his silence and his punishing pace felt harsh. Yim feared Honus’s harshness was evidence of cruelty, and she worried how he might use her.
    The sun was low in the sky when they came upon a creek. Honus