Son of Truth (Follower of the Word) Page 20

  Now came the hard part. Negotiating a price. Part of him couldn’t believe he was actually considering purchasing the young woman. But it was the only way he could think of to protect her. “What are you thinking?” Caleb asked.

  “I paid a lot of gold for her.” Lady Meira walked slowly toward Caleb. “Not many woman possess hair of that color.” She looked at Caleb. “Or that kind of fire. Not to mention that she’s pure.”

  Revulsion pooled inside his stomach. Had he really been like Lady Meira, so callous of other people’s lives? Seeing them as objects to be bought and sold at a whim?

  Yes.

  But not anymore. Caleb kept his features neutral. He stepped away from the doorway and crossed his arms. “So what are you asking for her?”

  Lady Meira walked around him like a panther. “Ten thousand gold.”

  Caleb coughed. “Ten thousand!“

  “She’s a rare find. Blood red hair, pure, and a scribe from the famous Monastery in Thyra. I don’t think you will find anyone like her.”

  “But she’s not very obedient for a slave,” Caleb pointed out. Ten thousand gold! He knew he could afford it, but still—

  Love gives, despite the cost.

  But—

  Which do you love more, Son of Truth? Gold, or the life of another?

  The Word’s words were like a scalpel across his heart.

  “Looks like my price is a little too steep for you,” Lady Meira said. “Oh, well, I’m sure I will find another buyer who—”

  “Three thousand. I’m not a fool, Meira. I know what the market price is on slaves.”

  Lady Meira laughed. “You really think I bought her for a mere three thousand? Nine.”

  Caleb narrowed his eyes. Even if they did arrive at a price, he didn’t have that kind of gold on him. How would he pay her? And what if she chose to just drop the whole thing and beat the woman anyway? Caleb knew Lady Meira was a spiteful woman. It must rankle her that her slave had tried to escape. Meira would definitely make sure the woman suffered.

  “Eight,” Caleb said softly, watching Meira’s reaction. He didn’t want to lose. But if he did, he could always bust the woman out later. She would be hurt, but she would heal.

  Lady Meira stared at him. “Eight and a half. Final offer.”

  Caleb knew by her posture that Lady Meira would not budge again. Time to wrap up the deal. “I’ll take her.”

  Lady Meira smiled, looking like a cat that had caught her prey. “Good. I don’t suppose you brought that kind of money with you?”

  “Of course not.”

  “No, of course not. So I want something to hold until I receive payment.” Her gaze turned down toward his hand. “Your ring would work…”

  Caleb looked at the ring he wore around his middle finger. She wanted his signet ring.

  Love gives, despite the cost. The words echoed inside his mind as he stared at the ring. Love gives. Caleb slowly pulled off the ring. Lady Meira held out long slender fingers. He dropped the ring onto her palm.

  Her fingers swiftly closed over the ring. “I’ll have Imre bring the woman to your room. Maybe you can finish your little—”

  “No.” Caleb spun around and headed toward the door. “I’ll get her myself.” Before Lady Meira could protest, he stepped inside and hurried toward the cellar.

  18

  Nierne could barely breathe. Searing pain radiated across the bottom of her right foot. Imre held her arm so tight she was sure there would be marks left. She hobbled along, trying to keep up with Imre and also keep her foot from touching the ground. Dim candles flew across either side of her vision. He turned a corner and went down the stairs, dragging her with him.

  Lord Tala had lied. She had trusted him, and he had lied to her. What a fool she had been to believe that man. She was going to be beaten mercilessly. Perhaps scarred. Why had she listened to him? What had possessed her? She should have run when she’d had the chance or fought until she had no strength.

  Nierne sucked in her breath and faltered. Imre jerked her up again and dragged her along the dark hallway. The candles were fewer between down here, and the stone floor colder. Imre stopped beside a thick wooden door. Nierne bumped into him and recoiled. In the candlelight, Imre looked even more like a monster than usual.

  Imre ignored her and opened the door. “In you go.” He grabbed her by the wrist and yanked her into the dark room. Nierne staggered inside, almost falling. He let go of her and turned.

  Nierne caught herself and looked around. She could see nothing but darkness. Her teeth began to chatter. Was he going to leave her here in the dark first before he commenced with her beating? Would she have scars on her back, like Lamya?

  A flicker of light came up behind her. Imre walked past her and placed a candle on a table a few feet away. The room was a small wine cellar. Barrels were lined along three walls, stacked on top of each other with little spigots. A faint tangy smell filled the air.

  Imre turned and looked at her and gave her a cold smile. The chill of it swept across her body. Nierne wrapped her arms around her. Tiny bumps broke out along her skin.

  “Now,” Imre said, and began rolling up one of his sleeves, “I will teach you a lesson about doing what you’re told. Lady Meira does not like to be embarrassed in front of her guests. And the one you were sent to tonight was one of her most important ones.”

  Nierne stared at him, her mouth dry. “Aren’t you supposed to wait for Lady Meira to get here?” Her voice squeaked.

  Imre smiled darkly. He rolled up his other sleeve with slow and precise movements. His arms were thick and hairy beneath his sleeves. The muscles bulged and flexed with each movement. How he wouldn’t kill her with a single hit, Nierne didn’t know. “It doesn’t matter whether I start now or wait for her ladyship. I’m here to make sure you don’t ever forget that—”

  The door opened behind him, and Lord Tala walked in. Nierne sucked in her breath. He…came?

  Imre turned and bowed. “Lord Tala.”

  “Imre.” Lord Tala looked over Nierne. “I’m here for her.”

  “Forgive me sir, but Lady Meira said—”

  “She’s mine now. I bought her from your mistress.”

  Nierne dropped her arms and staggered back, her mouth open. He did what?

  “Forgive me, milord, I did not know.”

  Lord Tala ignored him. “You will come with me. Do you understand?”

  Nierne stood frozen. Lord Tala, he came… But wait, he said he’d bought her. What did that mean?

  Lord Tala turned back toward the door. “Imre, take her to my room.”

  What?

  “Yes, milord.”

  Nierne let out a small scream as Imre grabbed her hand.

  Lord Tala looked back. “No, Imre. Carry her. Her foot is injured. I don’t want it injured more.” His face was impassive, as if he were talking about a package he didn’t want damaged.

  Imre turned and picked her up and tossed her over his shoulder. He headed toward the door, walking past Lord Tala who stood by the barrels. Nierne looked at Lord Tala. His eyes were dark, like the shadows around him. Hate and fear pulsed through her veins.

  They left the wine cellar. She bounced on Imre’s shoulder as he walked back down the dark hall. Lord Tala followed, his gaze on her. Between the pressure of Imre’s shoulder on her midsection, the jostling, and her own pounding fear, Nierne thought she was going to retch.

  Imre carried her up the staircase and headed toward the main staircase in the front of the manor. Moonlight spilled across the marble floor. Lord Tala’s face went in and out of shadow as he followed a couple of feet behind. A male servant carrying a small clay lamp passed them as they neared the bottom steps. He was the same servant who had stared at Nierne earlier that day. He slowed and turned around. He stared at her now, his eyes almost bulging.

  Her face felt like it had caught fire. Imre started up the stairs.

  Lord Tala stopped the servant. “I need a pitcher of water, clean rags,
and healing ointment brought to my room,” she overheard Lord Tala say.

  The man bobbed his head and scurried down the hall, the light from his lamp disappearing a moment later. Lore Tala turned and followed them up the stairs, his eyes on Nierne again.

  Why had he asked for water and rags? What were his plans?

  Imre reached the second floor and headed toward Lord Tala’s room. The air was warmer up here compared to the cellar below. Candles flickered in sconces hung along the wall.

  Nierne stiffened. Her heart began to hammer inside her chest. It felt like the evening was starting all over again. I can’t do this. Word, please help me—

  Imre opened the door and dumped her on the floor like a bag of grapes. She rubbed her lower back, her face flaming. Imre stepped back and let Lord Tala in. Nierne glanced up and scrambled to her feet. She could barely push a breath past the knot in her throat. What was Lore Tala going to do to her? She glanced behind her at the balcony. Could she run again? The fire she had felt on the way here had turned cold, paralyzing her body. And her foot still ached.

  Lord Tala shut the door.

  A wave of dizziness washed over her. Nierne staggered to the wall and leaned against it.

  A shadow moved beside her. “Come.” Lord Tala placed a hand on her arm, his fingers hot against her icy skin. “Sit on the bed.”

  Nierne tried to swallow but found her mouth dry. She was going to pass out. He placed his other hand on her shoulder and slowly turned her around. He guided her toward the bed. She couldn’t fight. She could barely stand.

  He pushed the gauze aside. “Here you go.”

  This was it. The blood drained from her body, and Nierne collapsed on the bed. The mattress sank beneath her. Nierne curled into a ball. Cold sweat broke out all over her body. Darkness edged along her vision.

  Seconds ticked by.

  She shivered, waiting. Waiting for him to touch her or to do whatever it was men did to women when they finally had them in their grasp.

  A minute later and she heard whispering. Nierne turned her head toward the door. Lord Tala shut the door and walked back with a pitcher of water, linen strips, and a small dark bottle that Nierne recognized.

  He caught her gaze. “Here, for your foot.” He placed the items on the floor near the bed then stepped back and crossed his arms.

  Nierne closed her eyes and tucked her knees in closer. What was he trying to do? Be nice? Endear himself to her by bringing her bandages and ointment, slowly breaking down her defenses? Well, it wouldn’t work. And she wasn’t sure she could get up anyway. Her whole body felt like one big puddle.

  “Why aren’t you getting up?”

  Nierne opened one eye. He stared at her with a puzzled look on his face. Was he serious? That brought some fire back into her. She sat up. The room spun for a moment. She held her head in her hand and waited for it to stop.

  “Are you all right?”

  Nierne looked up. “No. I’m not,” she snapped. Her eyes went wide. Crackers, she’d better watch what she said.

  He stared at her, his face again expressionless. Then he walked over to the pitcher and cloth, picked them up, and carried them to the bed. “Hold out your foot.” He knelt down.

  “What?”

  Lord Tala looked up at her. “Hold out your foot.”

  Her jaw dropped.

  He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I will bandage it for you.”

  Nierne stared at him. What in the Lands?

  “Please.”

  She hesitated. Could she really say no to him? Slowly, she drew out her leg and brought her foot around. His gaze dropped to her foot. He took it between his hands. His fingers were warm, and they began to probe the area.

  Nierne gasped as tingles shot across the bottom of her foot.

  He glanced up. “Did that hurt?”

  “No. Yes. That is…” Nierne blushed and looked away. Yes, it hurt. But it was more than that. Her feet were dirty and foul after her run through the dirt of the vineyards. She felt his eyes on her, but she refused to look at him.

  “I will try to be more careful. The cut doesn’t look deep.”

  She glanced down from the corner of her eye. Lord Tala had taken one of the linen strips, wet it with the pitcher of water, and began to clean the cut. More sharp pain bolted across her foot. Nierne bit her lip harder to keep back a cry.

  A moment later, the pain lessoned. Nierne stared at the wall. Back when he’d held her prisoner at the Temanin encampment, she’d known very well what kind of man Lord Tala was. But this man at her feet she didn’t understand at all. It seemed impossible that the two men were one and the same. But there was no mistaking his looks: the same dark hair and sun-kissed skin, lean muscle build, and eyes as black as night. The haughty look she remembered so well, however, was gone.

  “I’m sorry this happened to you,” he said, breaking the silence.

  Nierne turned back. He looked a bit uncomfortable. She suddenly wondered how often Lord Tala said the word sorry.

  He placed a few drops of ointment on another strip of linen. “The only way I could save you was to purchase you from Lady Meira. But don’t worry—” he looked up at her— “I won’t require anything from you.” He began to wrap the linen around her foot.

  Nierne watched him, a ball of lead forming in the pit of her stomach. How much had he paid for her? “You shouldn’t have done that.” Her voice cracked. “I can’t pay you back. I don’t own anything worth selling, and the Monastery—”

  “I’m not looking to be paid back.” He finished wrapping her foot. “I did it to keep you safe, just as I promised.” He looked up. “And I do keep my promises.”

  Lord Tala grabbed another linen and stood. He stared at his hand for a moment, then wiped it with the linen, his brow slightly furrowed as if in thought. He shook his head and looked back at Nierne. “Now, as far as you being my servant, that’s only in name.” He tossed the cloth down by the pitcher and vial of ointment. “I have bought you to set you free. But that ‘slave’ label will keep you safe until we can get you where you want to go. No one will dare touch you. Not when you’re considered mine.”

  Nierne watched him pick up the pitcher, remaining linen strips, and ointment. His words slowly sank in. No one would dare touch her, not if they thought she belonged to Lord Tala. Not Imre. Not the guards. Not Lady Meira. Not the other servants.

  He walked across the room and deposited the stuff on the chest. Strange, but the thought brought a small measure of security. He was right: No one would cross a man like him.

  Lord Tala turned back around.

  However, what about him? What were his intentions?

  “I still have some work left here to do…” He stopped and looked at her with a thoughtful expression. “Work that you might be able to help me with, if you want.” He seemed to add that last statement as an afterthought. He crossed his arms and tapped a finger on his lower lip. “So we’ll need to stay here another day. You’ll pretend to be my servant. After that, I can take you to a place where you’ll be safe. Maybe I can arrange transport for you back to Thyra.”

  Safe? Nierne thought over the last few months. Was anywhere safe in the Lands? Certainly not Thyra. Nowhere was safe, not with the Shadonae in power. Her mind reeled at how long it had been since she’d thought about the real danger facing the Lands. How strange that a crisis in a person’s own life could overshadow something even larger. She wondered how far the power of the Shadonae had reached since she’d been roasting here in the desert. Since she had failed to bring Rowen back to Thyra. Had all of Kerre fallen?

  “By the way,” he said, interrupting her thoughts, “since we’ll be together for a while, you may call me Caleb.”

  Caleb. Nierne looked at him. Yes, he was definitely different than the man she had met up north. But could he be trusted? Or was this all an act? She remembered how insane he had seemed during the siege.

  Nierne wavered. The only man she had ever trusted had been Father Reth
. But Caleb was different than before. Could she trust Caleb?

  Caleb sighed and stood.

  Nierne realized she had not answered. “Nierne,” she said. “My name is Nierne.”

  He looked back. “Nierne.” Her name sounded odd with his Temanin accent.

  She nodded. Then she noticed the dark blotch on his forehead just below his hairline. Was that where she had hit him with the vase? “Oh, I’m so sorry!” She scrambled off the bed, horrified.

  Caleb gave her a puzzled look. “For what?”

  “Your head. I hit you.” Over and over again, she realized. Her horror grew. She had never been a violent person. And yet tonight she had kicked and scratched and drawn blood. Dear Word, what kind of person was she becoming?

  “This?” Caleb lifted a finger and touched the spot. “I had forgotten about this.” He walked over to the chest and grabbed the leftover linens. He cleaned the wound with water and dabbed some of the ointment on a cloth and held it to his forehead. “Don’t worry,” he said, turning back around. “It doesn’t hurt.”

  Nierne shook her head. “I’ve never… hurt someone before.”

  He raised one eyebrow. “Really?”

  “No. My order is nonviolent.”

  “The Monastery, you mean?” Caleb pulled the linen away and stared at the cloth.

  The wound looked a lot better. In fact, she could hardly see it now. Nierne let out a sigh. Perhaps she had not hit him as hard as she had thought.

  “Strange,” Caleb muttered and fingered the cut on his forehead. “Anyway,” he said, “you were fighting for your life. I would be worried about you if you hadn’t fought that hard. It would mean they had broken you, and that would be a shame.” He moved toward the bed.

  Her belly tightened. What was he doing?

  “You may have the bed tonight.” Caleb picked up one of the pillows. “I’ll sleep on the balcony.” He grabbed one of the covers and blew out the candles before heading toward the balcony, where the silk sheet still hung tied to the stone ledge.

  Nierne watched Caleb settle down on the balcony floor, his back toward her. For a moment she thought about calling out to him and telling him thank you, but she still wasn’t sure about him. Everything was so confusing.