Free [Shadowed Path 01] - A Woman Worth Ten Coppers by Morgan Howell Page B

scowled, but returned with an earthenware jug along with two roots. He threw the latter, unwashed, into a pot sitting on the fire. Then he took four rough wooden bowls from the floor near the wall and poured ale into them. The flat brew was sour and skunky, but Yim drank it all in hopes of a bit of warmth. Honus took one polite sip, then pushed his bowl away. Gan grabbed Honus’s bowl and drained it before refilling his own. Mam raised her bowl in a silent toast and slurped down its contents. Afterward, she turned quiet and smiled blankly as she swayed to music only she could hear.
    Gan downed the third bowl of ale and some color came to his face. “Yar woman,” he said to Honus with a sneer, “be full o’ tricks.”
    “Yes. She’s surprising,” said Honus. He fixed his eyes on Yim. “How did you know to call her ‘Mommy’?”
    Yim looked away to avoid his gaze. “That’s what I called my own mother.”
    “Then it was a clever guess,” said Honus.
    “’Twill make na difference,” said Gan, glancing at his swaying mother. “She’ll ferget all this by morning. Then, maybe, she’ll have a new fit…” He grinned at Yim with jagged teeth. “…an’ slit yar throat.”
    Yim didn’t react to Gan’s remark, but quietly asked, “What happened to Mirien?”
    “Ah beed young, but Ah ken na ferget,” said Gan. “It be like yesterday. Mam an’ me came back from gatherin’ mushrooms. My da be slain an’ Mirien be gone.”
    “Was your sister young?” asked Yim.
    “Aye,” replied Gan, “but old enough fer some men. We found her in the road…” He poured and gulped down another bowl. “Mam went daft. Day after day, she prayed ta the goddess!” he said. “The goddess that took her child, then took her mind! Honor Karm? Ah’d sooner honor a whore! Ah’ll tell ya ’bout yar Balance. A strong man pushes down on it, till the scale favors him!”
    “Like the strong men who took your sister?” asked Honus.
    “Ya ken na fool me with yar Karmish talk. Ah found a true god! A strong god, na some sluttish woman.” He pulled at a cord around his neck to reveal an iron pendant in the form of a circle. “The Eater!”
    Honus coldly eyed the rusty symbol. “The Devourer of Souls.”
    “Ta become one with his strength! My hate becomes his hate!”

 
    TEN
    G AN’S SHOUTING broke his mother’s reverie, and she looked about in confusion. If she noticed Yim or Honus, she made no sign of it. “Gan,” she said in a whiny voice, “Ah’m hungry.”
    Gan gathered up the bowls and went over to the pot. With a wooden spoon, he fished out one root for each bowl and poured in some of the cooking water for broth. He brought Mam’s and his bowls over to the table, leaving Honus and Yim to get theirs. Taking out a knife, he peeled Mam’s root and mashed it into mush with the spoon. He placed the bowl and spoon before her, then picked up his own dinner and began to eat.
    Yim served Honus and herself. The roots in the muddy broth were small and partly rotted. She placed the largest one in front of Honus and sat at the end of the bench to eat. Before she could do so, Honus wordlessly switched their bowls. “Thank you, Master,” said Yim. Honus didn’t reply.
    The meager meal was eaten in silence. The only sounds were Mam’s slurping and the falling rain. Yim was so hungry she ate the root unpeeled and drank all the gritty broth. As she ate, the fire died down to embers and the room grew darker. When the meal was consumed, Gan rose. “There be some hay in the room closest ta the outer door,” he said. He went over to the wall and dragged two large, lumpy sacks that served as beds closer to the dying embers. Mam hobbled over to one and lay down. Gan took the ale jug and a bowl over to the other sack and sat upon it.
    “We’ll find our way,” said Honus in an amiable tone. He rose and left the room. Yim followed. She went slowly through the dark chambers. When she stepped in a puddle, she paused to wash her