Spy's Honor

moonlight, taking a short trail to the paved road, following it for a while, and then taking another trail to the women’s slave house. Micah was heading for the paved road. Janto grabbed the bag of gear and hurried after him. He had to rush. Micah, huge and athletic, moved without hesitation or uncertainty, covering the distance with long, swinging strides.

“He must make this trip a lot,” Janto whispered to Rhianne as they turned from the road onto the second trail.

At the women’s slave house, Micah went straight up the steps and through the door.

They waited several anxious minutes. “He’ll come out, right?” asked Rhianne. “He’s not going to just attack someone inside?”

“He should come out,” said Janto, though he was wondering the same thing.

Micah emerged, dragging a woman by the arm. She wasn’t fighting, but she didn’t look happy. The pair descended the steps.

“All right,” said Janto. “Spell him.”

Rhianne jogged toward Micah. Janto could not help but tense as his princess approached a man twice her size, but she moved without fear. Either her mind magic gave her confidence, or she trusted Janto’s invisibility shroud. His fists clenched helplessly as she reached out and touched Micah’s arm. Micah brushed at the spot, as if a leaf had fallen on him. And he changed. The fire drained from his eyes, leaving behind a dull, glassy stare. His shoulders drooped into an apathetic slump. The woman he’d been dragging yanked her arm from his loosened grip and pelted back into the slave house, slamming the door behind her. Rhianne grinned at Janto. She led Micah by the hand, and he followed, tripping over roots and branches.

Janto said, “That is the most disturbing thing I’ve seen in a long time.”

“Let’s get him into the sack,” said Rhianne.

Janto wrestled the sackcloth over Micah’s head. “How long does the spell last?”

“As long as I want it to.”

When Micah was covered head to toe in sackcloth, Janto pulled him to the ground and tied his feet so he couldn’t escape. Rhianne probed the other end of the sackcloth to locate his head and placed the empty chamber pot over it. They stepped back to observe their handiwork.

“Think that’ll hold him?” asked Janto.

Rhianne’s forehead wrinkled. “Maybe you should tie a few more knots.”

Janto tied a few more. No wonder she was concerned. The sackcloth looked scanty and weak for a man of Micah’s size. Still, they were as ready as they’d ever be. He released the shroud over himself but left Rhianne and Sashi invisible. “Make sure he stays spelled for now,” he told Rhianne, and headed for the slave house door.

Before he could knock, the door opened and Sirali emerged, followed by a dozen women. “Right, and we were watching from the windows how Micah got stuffed in a sack by an invisible man.”

“Happy to entertain,” said Janto. He stepped back as more women filed out, four or five dozen at least. He picked up the wooden staves and handed them out. Most of the women carried them gingerly and upright, like flag standards; only Sirali gripped hers as if she meant to use it. “He’s got a confusion spell on him right now. That’s why he’s quiet. When we’re ready, I’ll have the spell removed so he understands what’s going on.” He directed the women to surround Micah. They did so, but stood well back from the sackcloth-covered form, and for the first time, he worried the plan would not work. “Ready?”

The women murmured something that might have been assent.

“Ready,” said Sirali.

He nodded to an invisible Rhianne, who gestured with her hand.

Micah exploded into life. “What in the gods’ names—,” he cried. His fists punched at the confines of his sackcloth prison, and his legs, though tied together, kicked frantically. The chamber pot over his head went flying. He was furious as a badger in a trap, and the trap was no match for the badger. “What’s going on? Who’s out there?” he roared.

The women backed away, some of them dropping their staves. Even imprisoned in sackcloth, Micah was frightening. He seemed to have discovered the rope that held his feet and was tearing at it, ineffectually since the rope was on the outside of the bag and his hands were on the inside. But he would free himself soon enough if the women just stood around. They had to begin with the staves, or it would be too late.

Janto grabbed a staff from the forest floor and ran forward. Sirali was closer than he was, and her staff slammed into Micah first.

Micah cried out, “You fucker!” But before he could renew his struggles, Janto’s staff struck him, then Sirali’s again. Another woman landed a blow, a soft one. Then she wound up and hit him with a resounding thwack. Micah’s efforts to escape grew more frenzied and disorganized. Instead of working out a way to get at the knots, he reacted to the blows and punched back at the sackcloth. The rest of the women stepped forward, bolder. Janto got in a few more blows and handed off his staff to the woman nearest him.

Sirali handed off her staff. She carefully replaced the chamber pot on Micah’s head, then supervised the women, passing the hollow weapons from one to another and intervening when one woman used the staff too viciously and when another aimed too close to the chamber pot. Micah continued to curse, but not as loudly. His attempts at escape slowed and then ceased as he curled up to protect his vulnerable parts.

Janto retreated to where Rhianne waited, below a tree, so he could observe without being in the way. It was less his battle now than the women’s. He rested his back against the tree. Rhianne slipped her hand into his and leaned into him, shivering. Her presence gave him comfort. Instinctively, he put an arm around her.

“It’s disturbing,” she said, after watching for a while in silence.

“An unpleasant business,” agreed Janto.

The women had lost their fear. Some of them looked scary now, their faces contorted with rage as they rained blows upon the sackcloth bag. Micah stopped cursing and began to plead for relief.

“You think we should let him out?” asked Rhianne.

“No,” said Janto. Micah was tough. Halfway measures wouldn’t work. He had to be thoroughly frightened and humiliated.

The beating continued until the women’s fury had abated and the only sound that came from the bag was Micah’s hoarse, sobbing breath. Janto caught Sirali’s eye and nodded. He hid himself under the invisibility shroud.

Sirali collected the staves from the women and dropped them on the ground. She tossed away the chamber pot and untied the rope that bound Micah’s feet, then retreated into the circle of women who stood around the bag.

At first there was no movement from within the bag. Janto worried they’d overdone it and killed him.

Then the sackcloth moved. Micah backed slowly out of the bag, taking several minutes to extract himself. After freeing his legs and torso, he pushed the lip of the bag over his head with shaking hands. He was wild-eyed, his hair and clothes mussed. He looked up, saw the women surrounding him, and froze, so still it seemed he’d stopped breathing. His head turned slowly as he took them all in.

As if on cue, they filed back into the slave house. They walked differently than before. Straighter. Prouder.

Soon nobody was left in the clearing except Micah. Janto and Rhianne watched him from the safety of the shroud. After a while, Micah stood, shaky and bent with pain. He turned and trudged back to the men’s slave house.

When he was well away, Rhianne let out a sigh. “Gods,” she said. “I don’t know how I feel about that. What an ugly business! But I think it succeeded.”

“Did you see the look on his face when he came out of the bag and all the women stood around him?” said Janto.

“That part was an inspiration,” admitted Rhianne. “And I think it will help, as far as deterring future attacks on the women. He clearly didn’t understand how he ended up in the bag. That had to frighten him.”

Janto nodded. “If he doesn’t know how he was captured, he can’t strategize to find a way to avoid being captured again. The only way is to avoid angering the women.”

“Janto, look.” Her hand on his arm again. “Is that the woman we saw before?”

“Where?” He followed her gaze. The door to the women’s slave house had opened, and the woman Micah had dragged out, the one he’d meant to assault in the first place, was heading into the woods. “What’s she up