Thirty

Getting out of the gates of the castle was easy. It was too easy. I was certain then that Trayne understood me perfectly, and that he was on board with my plan- there were no centuries on duty, no watchmen on guard, and most helpful of all, the giant wooden doors that allowed entrance and exit were cracked ever so slightly. The time that it took for us to sleuth our way through shadows and behind doors allowed Trayne time to send word- let them go.

Had he been in his right mind, Chan might have caught on to the ease with which we made our escape. But he was dehydrated, starved, beaten and weak, and he had an amazing ability to believe more than anything else in his own luck.

We traded the first curtain for a horse and food, and I caught the gleam in the buyer’s eye as he took the precious material into his hands- he was getting a bargain. Chan didn’t seem to care. He eyed the horse greedily, jerking the reins in hand. When it became apparent through his angry stumbles and one clumsy fall that he’d never ridden a horse in his life, and that a journey like this would be impossible on horseback, we traded another silk curtain for a small two-passenger trolley, again letting the material go for far less than it was worth. The dealer was all too happy to attach the contraption to the horse for us and send us on our way before we realized what a bargain we’d given him, and as I watched the dust flying behind us, I lamented leaving two of the secret tracking devices in one place.

I watched the familiar landscape passing by, brown and barren and empty for the most part. I ached for my children, comforted only slightly because they were in good hands. When it started to snow three days into our journey, I urged Chan to stop at the next roadside caravan set up for trade- the gypsies would be camped out for weeks, making a temporary home in a place where less skilled travelers relied on their wares. It wasn’t ideal, but there wasn’t much else in the way of excuses to leave behind a tracking device out there. The silk would be ruined if we used it for blankets, I told him, and we could get far more value if we sold or traded it piece by piece. Eager to be on his way, he was reluctant, but when I felt him shivering violently beside me, I knew he would relent.

It was there that I purchased my one and only slave. She was a tiny girl, broken and abused in spirit, and she reminded me so much of Mayla that I gasped at the sight of her. She looked nothing like my sister-in-law, but she held the same wizened gaze and quizzical tilt of the head. It wasn’t the first time- and it wouldn’t be the last- that Mayla revisited me in my spirit.

The girl crouched on the ground, chained to the rear wheel of a wagon, shivering in nothing but an old burlap sheath. Her dirty blonde hair was matted and tangled and her face was covered in filth, but her bright blue eyes shined through like moonlight on a dark lake. She watched me, interested, from her huddled spot on the ground, and I recognized her disposition. Another worthless girl, a dreaded daughter- and what was her crime? Perhaps she refused to become betrothed to a man twice her age. Perhaps she wanted to be more than a fifth wife or concubine. She was with gypsies and their rules were off, just shadows of our own rules, different here and there. I didn’t know her crime, but it didn’t matter.

“One silk curtain for two of your warmest blankets and pillows, a change of clothes, food and water… And you change the wheel on my cart,” Chan was saying, bargaining in a useless way. The fool was selling an ocean for a pond.

“And the girl,” I added, speaking quickly. Chan looked sharply at me, and I shrugged as if it didn’t matter. “We’re heading back into civil society,” I said pointedly. “None of the ladies ever served themselves before, Chan. Did the men? We can’t arrive as if we were...” I let my eyes rove over these people disdainfully. “Gypsies, dear.” His eyebrows lifted as he considered my words.

“Yes, and the girl,” he said. “But clean her up first. And give her a change of clothes and her own damn blanket. She’s not sharing mine. No telling what diseases she’s carrying, wandering around in filth like that.”

The man dealing with us glanced over at the girl, his own daughter, and considered her. “Worthless thing,” he muttered, and nodded at one woman standing in the back, watching the proceedings. She unlocked the child and pulled her behind one wagon. I heard the girl whimpering as the woman splashed cold water over her, scrubbing her, and my fingers itched to hold her. It was too cold for this- she’d get sick and die.

“Be quick, please,” I called. “My husband and I are in a hurry. We need to be moving along.”

The woman picked the girl up and thrust her at me carelessly, walking back toward her wagon without sparing her daughter a second glance.

“What’s your name?” I whispered, pushing the girl’s still filthy- and now dripping wet- hair back off of her forehead. She shivered in my arms, her new outfit hardly better than her old one.

“Useless,” she answered, looking directly into my eyes.

Chan slapped the back of her head lightly. Not hard enough to harm her- he was in a good mood. “Didn’t they teach her anything?” he chided. “You should put her down. She needs to learn to look down when she’s addressing her betters. And she can’t wait on us if you’re carrying her, Piya. Put her down.” He laughed as he walked away, enjoying the perceived simple mindedness of absolutely everyone around him. As he chided the woman changing his wagon wheel, barking over her shoulder as if she were deaf, I put the child down on the ground and address her again.

“No, sweetheart. What is your name?”

“Useless is her name,” her mother said, walking past us. “And don’t let her forget it. She was born with big ideas, Lady. If you don’t take the spoon to her hind legs every chance you get, she’ll spout off at the mouth any time she pleases.”

I watched the woman’s back as she walked away, astounded.

“How old are you?” I asked the girl.

“Five,” she said, and then bit her lip. “I think.”

“And your birthday?”

“What’s it matter?” her mother said, finally coming to a stop beside us.

“For documentation purposes,” I answered, thinking quickly. “She’s now my legal property and I maintain exact documentation on all of my property. Not that I need to explain that to you, underling. When is the child’s birthday?”

“She was born in the cold months five years ago,” the woman said, shrugging. “Another useless girl. I gots five of ‘em already, didn’t need no other one, but there she was. Twelve hours of labor to bring her into this world and she got greedy right off the bat, sucking on the tit like it was an endless supply for her precious little mouth. Greedy little fish, that one. Be good, mind your new masters, Useless. ‘Cause if you screw this up, you ain’t comin’ back here, never will. Never will.” The woman walked away, shaking her head.

“One less burden for us,” her husband said, smiling. “But she’s right, there. We made a deal and we ain’t takin’ that little runt back, no matter what. She’s yours now, better or worse, Lady. Now you best be on the road. Storms a brewing and you’re riding right into it.”

I nodded, peering up at the cloudless blue sky. How the man guessed a storm was coming was beyond me, but I didn’t much care what excuse he fed us for pushing us on our way- I was ready to be done with this trip.

I squatted in front of the girl. “You are no longer named Useless,” I said, and her big eyes watched me, expressionless. “Do you understand?”

“Yes,” she said. “I ain’t got no name at all, then.”

“No,” I murmured, squeezing her hands gently. “That’s not true. I’m going to give you a new name. Is there any name you might like?”

She thought for a moment, biting her lip, and finally she said, “Can I be called Bird, Lady?”

“Absolutely,” I said, nodding. “Bird. That is a beautiful, lovely name. From now on, you will be called Bird.”

The horrors of Bird’s little life were obvious, the most atrocious of which I could only ponder as she refused to talk of her life among her Gypsie relatives. In a drunken stupor, Chan tried to sell her to another caravan further into our trip for reasons that only made sense to him, but he demanded too much. I clung to the child, so relieved that the deal had fallen through that I didn’t recognize the cruelty that was creeping into Chan’s features. The old, haunted look that lurked behind his eyes.

“Here,” I offered absentmindedly. “Sell one of the curtains instead, like I told you to before. They’re worth far more, anyway. We need to get a move on.”

I was on the ground, my tongue stupidly hanging out of my mouth before I felt the sting from the slap and realized that I’d been hit. I arose, pushing dirt around my teeth, and spit.

“Do not forget your place, Piya,” Chan said, his voice low. “You do not tell me anything.”

“Of course, husband,” I said, wiping blood from my cheek. “I apologize.”

“You’re lucky I give you the chance to apologize,” he glared, wobbling. “Get in the wagon. We’re leaving. And leave one of those damn curtains. Have Useless load the back with as much food as will fit.”

I nodded at Bird, and she ran toward the little roadside store. The way she balled her fists up when she ran hurt my chest. She was still a child- a tiny creature with chubby little legs and hands despite her life of obvious poverty. That anyone could hurt her was unimaginable. Not for the first time, I hated the world in which I lived.

The wagon was made for two people, with a small wooden bucket underneath the seat for storage. Bird filled the space as full as she could and then climbed into the wagon beside me. I sat beside Chan, presumably so that Bird could more easily hop in and out of the wagon to serve me, but in reality I wanted to keep her as far away from him as possible. He was dangerous, still so dangerous, and I walked a fine line between perceived threats and real ones.

“You need to be ugly,” he said, studying me as we bounced along the road, bundled up in blankets and shivering in the cold. My bones ached for summer heat. I hadn’t worn makeup in weeks, perhaps months, and I thought that he was alluding to this fact.

“When we arrive back to our home, I’ll find my products and show Bird how to fix my face,” I told him matter-of-factly. “I haven’t exactly been on vacation the last few weeks, Chan.”

He laughed, taking another drink from the foul smelling jar in his lap.

“That’s not what I mean. Though it should be punishable by law to deceive a man the way you deceived me, Wife. You slathered so much of that garbage on your face that I thought you worthy for a first wife position that should’ve been Alasbar’s all along. How much trouble could have been saved if only I’d met her first? We will never know.” He took another drink, then handed the reins over to Bird. “Hold tight, little Useless. This won’t be pleasant, and Piya may jerk around a bit, so hold tight.” He laughed cruelly, pulling something from the pocket of his jeans. “You don’t want to push Bird out of the wagon, do you? She’ll be trampled by the wheels. So you just sit still while I make sure no one else likes you enough to steal you away from me-”

As he raised the blade to my face and realization of his intentions sunk in, I did indeed struggle, but it was no use. Even drunk and crazed as he was, weakened by weeks of torture, he was so strong, his sinewy muscles working against me as I crouched away from him in the wagon. Bird was pressed against me, trying to lean away, trying to give me room to move away from Chan, but it was a useless gesture. We were too cramped and there was simply nowhere to go. My stomach tightened in fear as he used his strength to hold me in place and slid the blade down my face, from the left side of my forehead, through my eyebrow, over my eyelid, and down my cheek. I screamed, feeling my flesh rip apart in a slow, pulling sensation, but it was a meaningless sound. There was no one to come to my aid, no one to help me out here.

When he was finished, he sat up and studied me, pleased with himself. I laid against Bird, gasping for air as blood pooled down my neck and into my dress.

“You don’t understand it now, but I’ve done you a favor,” he said, slipping the bloody knife nonchalantly back into his pants and reaching over me to take the reins back from Bird. “I don’t enjoy hurting you, Piya. And it’s true, you’re no beauty. But you were unmarked, and Oscar likes plain girls for some reason. He’d see value in you. This way, there’s no chance of him being interested in you.” He leaned over and kissed my hair. “You’ll see,” he said. “I had to do it. Because I love you, Piya. And a man takes care of what’s his. And you’re mine.” He patted my leg consolingly. “You’ll feel better soon. In a few days, it won’t even hurt anymore. But you’ll be scarred forever, and no man will ever want you again. No man will ever mistake you for beautiful again.” He took a swig of his whiskey and smiled at me. “Even with makeup.”