The sun was starting to set behind the Yurna Mountains, by the time that the camps around Nokire came into view. Banno barked out Vaenuth’s orders, assigning camping tasks to her workers—five names for setting up tents, three for preparing food, two for patrol and scouting the nearest camps. It was of great importance to know one’s neighbours, and their strengths and weaknesses.
“Tagg, with me,” Vaenuth said.
“Boss,” he said, with a smile. He’d kept at her side more than Banno during the last few days, though Banno and she had not truly lost their friendship. The massive warrior had voiced his complaints that one day, but had said little in terms of advice to her since. He still joined her during the daily mealtime, still strung up his tent next to hers, and still watched out for her. She knew he did.
Tagg, on the other hand, had transitioned from a loyal watch dog to the sword at her waist. When she spoke, he swung into action without question. He said little, and enforced her word with a stern attention to detail. He had not come to physical difficulty with any of their own yet, but Vaenuth knew he would if she deemed it necessary. But she had already decided to let her caravan do as it would.
She led Tagg away from the group and into the village of Nokire. She’d try to find Iloli, the same Mediator she had spoken with before. They were in desperate need to replenish their stocks, and Vaenuth would have to dig into her emergency reserve, the small metal box of coins she kept locked for days when it was necessary. Today it was necessary. They walked between narrow trunks of broad-leafed trees, side-by-side. With each step, Tagg’s scabbard gently clinked against his belt.
If her people spoke of the events in Logren, then so be it. Her reputation would be spread even further. The desert did not belong to the Emperor, last she had heard, and though the loss of life was a tragedy, she had accomplished her job. She would not boast of the combat she had survived there, nor the number of her family that had given their lives in the line of work. She would return to Rainrest and deliver the white lead that weighed their wagons down.
Vaenuth didn’t wear her desert robe today, as they walked. She had on her blue vest, covering the brands on her back. It was bound in the front with a couple of strings, leaving open some breathing room for her torso. The only rule to garb in the jungles of Numa’nakres was to avoid sweat stains; many people went topless, but Vaenuth was the only white woman around and didn’t want to be ogled by every passerby. The skin of her arms, stomach, and back were covered with tattoos anyway, so she blended in until people looked closely at her.
“Which office?” Tagg asked, as they entered a wide courtyard on the north side of town. Around the courtyard were office doors and stairs up to the second floor, where more doors waited. Vaenuth remembered which was Iloli’s well; the woman had been very helpful in purchasing their supplies on the trip north.
A thin white cord hung around the door’s handle, displaying a sign that read, ‘Busy, please wait.’ Tagg didn’t hesitate to lean against the wall, and close his eyes for a bit of rest, while Vaenuth paced and eventually settled beside him many minutes later. It wasn’t long after that that the door opened and a mercenary, from the looks of him, came marching out.
“Oh, Vaenuth?” Iloli asked, as she ushered her last business dealing out of her office. “Welcome back from the Expanse!”
“Thank you,” Vaenuth replied. The businesswoman had on a red and white blouse, which, in the dark exterior of the yard seemed to glow against her dark skin. She also had a thick, yarn woven pouch in her hand, and a necklace around her throat. Vaenuth blinked. “Are you going out? We could come back in the morning.”
“No, come in, come in,” Iloli said. She set the pouch on a shelf as she led the way back into her office and set a lantern on her desk. Soon, a warm glow encompassed the room. There was no hearth, for this was not some dank castle, but a breathable wooden office building in one of the most humid regions of the Known World. After the arid Expanse, it was almost suffocating to Vaenuth.
“We just arrived this afternoon,” Vaenuth said. As she sat down, across from Iloli’s desk, the chain that hung against her face clinked. It linked a ring in her ear with the ring in her nose. Her other ear had a small set of studs instead of any hanging jewelry, and the one long section of her brown hair was tossed over the ear that the chain reached to.
Iloli nodded, smiling at her. She was still getting some paperwork out of her desk as they talked. Tagg leaned against the nearby wall, and watched them quietly. “How did your trade mission go? You were going to the Logren Rivers?” the Nokire merchant asked.
“It didn’t go well,” Vaenuth said.
Tagg laughed.
Iloli blinked, then shrugged, and found Vaenuth’s file in her book. “How many food crates would you like for the next leg of your travel?” she asked.
“Right to business?” Vaenuth asked, with a small laugh.
Iloli, suddenly uncomfortable, forced a laugh too. “I was actually on my way to the tavern, to be honest, but I like to keep my business very formal. It’s true,” she said. “I hope my professionalism doesn’t… irritate you?”
“It’s fine,” Vaenuth said. “We’re heading to Rainrest…”
“So, thirty times that distance, probably twelve crates?”
“Closer to four, actually,” Vaenuth said. “We suffered some casualties along the way.”
“What? That’s a third of what you had before! What happened?” Iloli asked. She had dropped her charcoal. “Slithers?” she asked.
“Lost some to Slithers,” Vaenuth said, with a stern nod. “Lost some to humans too.”
“Curses,” Iloli muttered. She crossed her arms. “We can deal with all of this before you leave tomorrow. I think you should come to the tavern with me and get a drink. Sounds like you could use some distraction.”
Vaenuth smiled. She had already been planning to spend some time at a bar this evening. She’d tried to find that connection with someone in Rainrest before she left—it was easy enough to pick up a drunk man with her past experiences—and she hadn’t been with anyone since. But to have company for an outing was less common for her, mainly because of the way that might affect her reputation if she acted that blatantly interested in simple, unattached sex. She hated thinking this way, but ultimately, one of her greatest longings was to get whatever connection or feeling others got out of intimacy; thanks to her slave days, she’d been denied any such meaning to her physicality.
“I’m sorry,” Iloli said. She looked down, and let out her breath. “I’ve overstepped my bounds, haven’t I?”
“No, nothing like that. I was just thinking,” Vaenuth said. She stood up and looked at Tagg. Her warrior had already stood up straight, and he was smiling.
“You’re staying?” he asked.
“I suppose so,” Vaenuth said, and gave Iloli a smile. “I’ll see you back at the camp?”
Tagg nodded. “Be careful,” he said. “After that mission, we may have enemies. Though I’m not at all suggesting mistress Iloli is one of those.” With that, he shoved open the door and disappeared into the evening.
“I don’t want to put you in danger,” Iloli said, stifling a laugh.
“I’m not looking for danger tonight,” Vaenuth said. She was still not certain how open she should be with Iloli, so she didn’t say what she was looking for. She just looked at the small woman and nodded. “Lead the way.”
They went to a drinking house that had no sign in front; when Vaenuth asked about that, Iloli explained that all the named establishments were overrun with travellers and caravaneers from the camps around Nokire. The place was definitely still a business, with tables and a bar. It smelled of alcohol, tobacco, soma, and sweat. A bard with a flute was belting out a tune, alternating between upbeat phrases of whistling notes and a quick-worded chorus to tie it together. To the sound of his song, many were dancing—that included proper dancing with footwork, couples swaying together, and more than a few leaning against walls or tables with their faces together.
“Two,” Iloli said, at the bar, and Vaenuth sat down next to her. At her raised eyebrow, Iloli explained, “The barkeeper has a specialty, a malt liquor he keeps secret. You have to try it.”
“Alright,” Vaenuth said. She was not a heavy drinker, but could handle her own. When the drinks came, in small shot glasses, she smelled it first, but it smelled like a normal hard liquor. She swigged it back, swallowed, and shook her head at the burn. “Now what?” she asked when she could talk again.
“I don’t know,” Iloli said. “What do you want to do?” She glanced at a nearby table where someone was selling all sorts of powders, pipes, and vials.
“Nothing like that,” Vaenuth said. “Something fruity, maybe?”
“Alright,” Iloli said, and ordered two ciders. They went to find a table after that, and Vaenuth caught Iloli looking at her back as she reached across the bar and then turned back.
“What?” Vaenuth asked. “You saw my brand?”
“I did,” Iloli said, as they found a small table to sit at. The merchant set her drink down in front of her and lowered her eyes from Vaenuth’s. “The first time we met, a few months ago, you said you had no last name. I assumed you simply didn’t know who your parents were.”
Vaenuth took a drink of hers. “There’s two brands,” she said and smiled. She had made her body into something she was happy and proud of, though she knew talking about slave brands made some people uncomfortable. “The other I added,” she explained.
Iloli blinked in surprise. “Why?”
“To own it,” Vaenuth said. “To own myself.”
Iloli shook her head. The woman might have been Vaenuth’s age, for all she could tell. She had her black hair in a braid, and only two small ink marks that Vaenuth could see, one a small skull on her shoulder, above the collar of her red and white blouse, and the other an empty ring on the back of her hand. She scratched her neck with trimmed fingernails. “I’ve worked for Nokire for most of my life. I get paid, there’s no slaves here of course. We hear about it from travellers sometimes, from the Elder Coast even. But in some ways you’re even more free than I.”
Vaenuth shrugged. “Nothing wrong with a job. I worked for the caravan I now run for a long time before I owned it.”
“But even then,” Iloli said. “Going out into the Expanse… You make your own law. No one tells you what not to do.”
“Is someone telling you what not to do?” Vaenuth asked.
Iloli laughed, then her face flushed, and then she took a drink. “I know you didn’t mean it like that,” she stammered. “I, well, never mind.”
“I don’t usually socialize with business contacts,” Vaenuth said. She took a drink. “So all of this is off the record, obviously.”
“That’s alright,” Iloli said, and sipped her cider again. She licked her lips at the apple aftertaste. “I just mean, being able to go where I want and talk to whoever I want. I trade in money, you trade in connections.”
Vaenuth tapped the table. “If you feel that someone controls you, then leave. Are you talking about a husband, or just your job?”
“I don’t have a husband,” Iloli said, quickly. “In fact, I’m not… I shouldn’t say.”
“This whole conversation is about one thing,” Vaenuth said, with a smile. Now she knew what Iloli had laughed about earlier. “Do and say whatever you want. Don’t let anyone tell you not to.”
Iloli blinked. “Fine. I will then,” she said. She ran a hand over her hair, brushing down any errant hairs, as she took a drink with her other hand. Then she looked at Vaenuth squarely. “I want to get out of here, and I’d like to see your brands. Maybe—probably more. Would you be at all interested in that?”
Vaenuth grinned. “Let’s go,” she said. Iloli led the way, a short walk to a second-floor apartment in an old stone building. They had barely closed the door behind them when they started kissing.