Wide Leaf dropped an old brown dress in Morning Dew’s lap. “In case you get cold, Matron, you can put this on.” The old woman leaned close, imposing herself in Morning Dew’s vision. “And if you run, they will bring you back. You’re going to be on your back, given what Smoke Shield wants you for. He won’t care if the tendons in your heels are still in one piece.”
Slaves who insisted on running often had the large tendon severed above their heels. From then on, they walked in a curious, slow, wobbling gait. The idea of it sent a chill down her already-numb souls.
Morning Dew hadn’t expected to sleep, but she came awake the next morning, her body resting on a blanket she didn’t remember from the night before. In her sleep, she had pulled it gratefully around her, and now she blinked in the light of a new day.
Sitting up, she had clutched the brown dress, wrinkled now, and wadded where she’d hugged it to herself in the night. For long moments she considered it before finally pulling it over her head. Her bladder was full, and she glanced suspiciously at the two women sleeping on the pole beds. It would serve them right if she pulled a jar of food over and urinated in it, but doing so might awaken them.
With all of her stealth, she rose to her feet, stepping to the door and looking out. The sun was high in the sky. Gods, how long had she slept? Two men—different ones from the night before—sat at a fire beside a ramada. Their attention was on bone dice that they tossed on a blanket. Piles of counters lay beside them.
Looking beyond that, she could see log mortars with long pestles propped to one side, then the endless mass of houses and granaries that crowded between her and the palisade. People were everywhere. What were the chances that she could just walk through them, make it to the canoe landing, and push off?
“Going somewhere?” a muzzy voice called from behind.
“Do you want me to wet your floor?” Unbidden, her voice reeked of sarcasm.
Heron Wing blinked, yawned, and stretched her arms. Then she stepped from her bed and scratched. “I could have slept for a moon.”
Morning Dew glanced at Wide Leaf. The old woman’s mouth hung open, exposing gaps in her teeth. She seemed dead to the morning.
Heron Wing remained an attractive woman, her body athletic, high breasted, and with a slim waist. She pulled her hair back, reached for a dress, and pulled it on. She slipped her feet into sandals and beckoned to Morning Dew as she led the way through the door. At the side of the house a chest-high screen had been built around an old storage pit. From the odor, Morning Dew knew exactly what it was now used for. Heron Wing stepped behind the screen, pulled her dress up, and squatted, saying wryly, “You won’t mind if I go first? That way, if you run, it will be on a full bladder. It should slow you down.”
When the woman finished, Morning Dew took her turn, pleased that Heron Wing ignored her, her face turned up at the winter sun. The woman’s breath fogged in the cold air.
“Why did you marry him?” Morning Dew asked. “He’s a weasel.”
“He is all of that,” Heron Wing surprised her by saying. “Unfortunately, at the time, I wasn’t thinking very well. There were political considerations, gifts had been exchanged, and given the events of the time, I consented.”
“Then why haven’t you divorced him?”
“We are not Chahta.” She smiled wearily. “Though at times I wish we were.”
The wistfulness in her tone caught Morning Dew off guard. “You are not like him.”
Heron Wing actually smiled at her. “I know. Thank the gods.”
Morning Dew stood, unsure what to do next.
Unexpectedly, Heron Wing turned to her. “Listen to me. Hear what I say and take it to your souls. I cannot undo what has been done. One cannot stop a river and reverse its flow. But this is my advice: Do not run. Even if you make it to the river, they will bring you back, and they will hurt and humiliate you.” Heron Wing’s hard stare emphasized the point.
Having nothing else to do, Morning Dew nodded.
“When Smoke Shield sends for you, just submit. Do nothing to anger him. Whatever you do, don’t fight him. If you make him mad, he will hurt you. Badly. If you resist in any fashion, he will consider it to be a challenge. He will make it his duty to break you. If will be fun for him, a grand diversion. Should that happen, you will be the center of his attention for a very long time. Do you understand?”
She did.
“The best thing for you is to do as he says; but the trick for a smart woman—and I think you are that—is to find the balance. Comply with his wishes, but do so without enthusiasm. As soon as he grows bored with you, he will set you aside for other diversions.”