“Yeah, but—
“Joe has explained to me how terrible that idea is to you, which is one reason we never brought it up, but it is like the thing we discussed about women’s dress here. This is not only a different world, it exists stuck in a different, earlier time and way of thinking.”
“But keepin’ slaves is
“There is a lot of evil in both our worlds, some practiced by very good people. You must learn to think differently. There will be no revolutions here to change things like this. Not ever. Things can only become worse. Now that you know, you should be aware that I will be telling everyone here that I am Joe’s slave. It is vital to me that I do so. Being someone’s property is the only protection I have here.”
“Come again?”
“Otherwise, you see, I am nothing at all, without status or position of any sort, and, therefore, anyone could do anything with and to me that they felt like. As his slave, I am protected under law and the Rules because
This kind of thinking made Irv dizzy. Still, it suddenly occurred to him that this put her indiscretions of the night before in this new light. “But, if he gets mad at you or somethin’ he could
“That is so,” she admitted, “but we are married in our own minds, and I think I know him better than that.”
“Couldn’t he just give you your freedom?”
“No, that’s not permitted. If he freed me, renounced me, or sent me away, I would still be without status and unable to be anything other than I am. I can only survive as someone’s property. It is the only way I get some measure of independence.”
“Come again?”
“He is my owner, not my puppeteer. I am as independent as I can get away with.”
This was too much for the boy. If they weren’t married anymore, then she wasn’t cheating on him last night, and, likewise, he could have all the flings he wanted and not be cheating on her. But he still didn’t like it. Slavery was evil; when it was the good guys who kept slaves, what did it take to be a bad guy? He had been with them many months now, and he was only discovering what they already knew.
“What was that bit about a nose ring?” he asked her.
“He means a small ring that would be inserted through my nose, of course,” she told him. “Each nation has its own unique alloy for making them, all done by fairy folk, of course. In addition, it carries a spell which identifies the owner and all previous owners. They’re usually not worn unless ownership is transferred—sort of a bill of sale, as it were. You notice how the guardsman barely questioned the two of you but went to some length to determine I really was of Marquewood?”
“Yeah. So?”
“Because I had no ring, he wanted to make certain that Joe wasn’t smuggling me in. I hadn’t even thought of it before, but I’m very glad he was so easy on us. A stickler for the law might well have confiscated me!”
“You gonna get one of them rings put in?”
“I’d rather not,” she replied honestly, “but I think I’ll have to. I don’t want to take a risk like that again. I tried not to think about getting one, since the idea of having something in my nose sends chills through me, but, all of a sudden, I keep thinking about all the nasty possibilities without one. Without Joe around, I have nothing to prove that I am his. Slavers could steal me and sell me to anyone with impunity! And the law would back them up!”
They rode in silence for a while, and that wasn’t much better, since he wasn’t getting things sorted out at all, and the lack of conversation made the dark, junglelike swamp even darker and more menacing. Aside from the noise of the horses moving along the road, all other sounds came from the dense forest, and those noises included strange hoots, weird screeches, growls, grunts, and other sounds hard on the nerves, made all the worse because you couldn’t see what was making them.
He noticed that Tiana wasn’t anxious to get her run in around here, either.
“Let’s pick up the pace a little,” Joe suggested. “I’d like to be out of here before dark.”
This was good for a while, but horses couldn’t be pushed forever without some water and breaks. As the afternoon went on, the low light that filtered down angled lower, causing a sinister, creeping dark to pervade slowly, the hot, humid air as still as death. It was also nearly impossible to tell what time it was; they didn’t seem to have watches in this world, either, and under this jungle canopy it was nearly impossible to tell where the sun was in the sky. In these latitudes, the sun went down like a stone somewhere around six-thirty.
“What happens if we don’t make it out of this mess by dark?” Irving asked nervously.
“It’s too damp to find anything useful as a torch,” Joe replied, frowning and looking around. “We’ll be blind as bats once the sun sets if we don’t clear it, and the only thing I’d rather not do than spend a night here is ride blind. We’re just gonna have to push the horses and hope.”
But within another twenty minutes, it seemed to grow darker still, and from the tops of the great trees there came a rushing noise as some strong winds picked up, and then there was the sound of thunder.
So dense was the canopy that for quite some time no rain fell on them, although the air was so thick and heavy it made them wet just riding through it. Finally, though, it filled the upper reaches and began running off, not as rain but more like the buckets of giants being emptied on top of them. They were forced to stop, not only because of their own problems but because it was dangerous for the horses, and they could only find as dry a place as they could up against some big trunks, hold the horses, and wait it out.
The storm itself was over in perhaps half an hour, perhaps less, but the runoff continued for almost as long as the rain made its way down below. By the time they were through, they were in a muddy, wet steambath. Worse, they had lost an hour and it would be slow going for a while from this point as well.
“What do we do now?” Irving asked his father miserably.
“Well, all those in favor of camping here, in ankle-deep water and smelly swamp, have a seat. I’m for pressing on. We may not make it out, but the closer we are to out the better; at least, it’ll give things time to dry. There’s not a prayer I Ve got anything dry to put on, either, so I’m gonna shock you all and go bare-ass on a wet horse blanket and hang this loincloth on the side to dry as we ride. Irv, I’d suggest you do the same with your leather, since, when that stuff dries, it’s gonna cut right into you.”
“But—suppose we meet somebody on the trail?” the boy responded, embarrassed.
“Have we met anybody yet? And we’re not likely to meet anybody, either, at least not anybody who’s here for honest purposes. We’re more than halfway, I’m pretty sure, and only nuts like us would start in on this route after sunup.”
Ti was busy wringing out her hair, almost to no avail, but she commented, seeing the boy’s nervousness, “Come, come! I have seen much worse than you and lived!”
The leather thongs were already starting to irritate his skin, so he knew he had no choice, and finally stripped.
The horse blanket was also soaked through and felt like a wooly sponge, but there was no getting rid of it. Bare-assed and truly bareback on a horse was an open invitation to saddle sores, as he’d learned early on in his experience here. Until Husaquahr, he’d never been on a horse that moved unless you stuck a quarter in the slot first, but his father had been a good teacher and he a quick learner. It no longer even hurt like hell to get off anymore.
The problem really was, it didn’t seem to get any dryer as they went on slowly through the muck that had been the road and was still better than what was on either side of it. Instead, the rain forest took on an even more eerie cast, with fog forming just above the ground and thickening as they went. Irving couldn’t help noticing that his father was still wearing the sword that was the boy’s namesake, and in a position where it could be easily drawn while mounted.
The fog grew thicker, as did the silence of the land, with only the drip, drip, drip of water making its way down to join its whole at the base of the great trees. What sunlight remained created only a grim, ghostly gray, and it seemed that it was getting darker and darker with each passing minute.
Joe had given up any idea of getting out before full darkness; now he was looking at every place that gave any potential for both safety and protection. Cursing himself for not allowing for any variables and maybe waiting
