People of the Moon(152)

“You must be the most unhappy person alive.”

A hand of time later, Crow Woman agreed to make camp. They ate in silence the corn cakes that White Eye had provided for their return trip.

Wrapped Wrist rolled into his blanket, listening to the crickets and hearing the occasional cry of the nightjar. The night lay heavily on the land.

She surprised him, saying, “I grew up in Fourth Night House—a town on the Turquoise Trail east of Straight Path Canyon. It’s a dismal place, dry and dusty, constantly windblown. The land is dull yellow—the soil, the rocks—even the sky takes on that color.

“As a girl I carried water, removed ash from the heating bowls, emptied waste pots, and trapped rodents. I helped prepare and cook food, mixed plaster, carried stone and timbers, and sweated in their miserable excuse of a cornfield.”

She paused for a while.

“The thing was, the other slaves treated me differently. So did my Made People masters, and even the First People who lived there. I got more to eat than the others, and was allowed to sleep in the Matron’s storeroom.” She hesitated. “The rumor was that I was Crow Beard’s daughter. That he’d taken a liking to my mother on his trips through.” She shrugged. “I never allowed myself to believe it.”

Wrapped Wrist kept his peace.

“I only had one friend. The girl who taught me your tongue. She was sleeping with the Matron’s oldest son at the time. On occasion he would sneak into our room after dark and lay with her.”

Wrapped Wrist wondered if he should say anything.

“I was in love with him, too. I used to listen to them, hear the kindness in his voice as he whispered into her ear, and muffled cries of delight from their fierce coupling.” She sighed. “Then his younger brother came to my bed just after my first moon as a woman. Everything his brother was, he was not. I bled for days after he jammed himself into me.”

An owl hooted in the trees.

“My friend and her lover left for Straight Path Canyon. The younger brother had always been considered something of a nuisance, never having his brother’s courage or talent at doing things. He took out his parents’ displeasure on me.”

In the long silence that followed, Wrapped Wrist could well imagine the ways a spoiled young man could abuse a woman under his command.

“I ran off,” Crow Woman continued. “It was a spring storm. Wind Baby had blackened the sky with blowing dust. In desperation I charged off into the middle of that. Gods, the sand felt like it would scour the skin right off my face. It plugged my nose, ground in my teeth, and burned in my eyes, but I continued, walking into the wind, following the road to Straight Path Canyon. It was the only place I could think of to go, since my friend and her young lover had gone there.”

“Did you find them?” he asked softly.

“Oh, yes. She was glad to see me, and while he understood my reasons for running away, he was a new warrior in the Blessed Sun’s guard. It was his ‘duty,’ he said. He took me to Talon Town to ensure that I was taken back to Fourth Night House when …”

She tossed in her blankets, unable to finish.

Wrapped Wrist waited for a moment before asking, “Did they ever take you back to Fourth Night House?”

In the dim darkness, he thought he saw her shake her head.

“Snake Head,” she whispered, “wouldn’t let them.”

“The one they said was a …” He wouldn’t utter the word ‘witch,’ afraid of what if might do to her.

“By the gods,” she almost whimpered, “he was a monster. The things he …” Her dry swallow was audible.

In a reasonable voice, Wrapped Wrist said, “He is dead, his souls howling forever. You are alive.”

In a half-frantic voice she said, “Why am I telling you this?”

“Have you ever told anyone else?”

“No.”

“Then maybe you needed to tell someone. I’ve heard from the Healers that sometimes just speaking the words can start the souls on the way to Healing.”

“If you ever speak of this to anyone, I swear …”

He chuckled at the fury behind her words. “Yes, yes, I know. My death will be painful and long.”

She sat up in her blankets. “Do you mock me?”

“Quite the contrary, I honor you.”

For long moments she hovered in indecision before lying back in her blankets. “Good night, Wrapped Wrist. In the morning I don’t want to be reminded that I said any of this.”

He rolled over onto his side. No, of course not.

Still, sleep wouldn’t come. His fertile mind kept conjuring the images of things that she might have endured at the hands of various evil and violent men.