Chapter 3

“How much did they want for a room at the inn?” Yurya asked.

“Too much for too little,” Zuri said, shaking his head. “Let us not inquire into the quality of the owner of this overpriced waystation. The proprietor and his wife are more than well-fed, and they are outfitted in better garments than most others as well. He must love his pennies as much as his meals, hoarding every one of them, polishing them one-by-one until late in the night.”

“There you go, talking funny again,” Yurya said. “You could’ve called him a greedy bastard and be done with it. Instead, you paint a story to accompany my question.”

“You said you liked interesting,” Zuri said. “I had a short, interesting conversation with the tavernkeeper. The words were forgettable, but the man himself is something to add to my meager chest of stories.”

“Cardo is still inside?” Yurya said.

“He believes he can still strike a fair deal or at least one that fits the size of his purse. I admire his optimism,” Zuri said. “My guess is this place caters to men like those you encountered earlier today. Whatever travels between the cities of Covanera and Sadegh in Medawar Province, most of it is not healthy for the poor and unguarded.”

“Sadegh,” Yurya said, spitting to the side. “Medawar, Lewa and their despised nobility, Baron Rathan, twelfth descendent of the founder. The blood has thinned to water in that line. Word has it that he does not prefer the company of women. He has not produced an heir yet, which can only be good for the rest of us.”

“I care not where he puts his prick, only that he is one himself,” Zuri said with a smirk. “Given that his title is inherited and has not been earned, he was always destined to be a prick. My mother always told me ‘The struggle makes the man.’ No struggle, no man and only an aging child to fill the shoes.”

“We never had a chance under these Nobles, did we?” Yurya said, despair creeping into her voice.

“You did not have a choice, but your Noble and his lord did have choices,” Zuri said. “They chose greed. If they had shown the tiniest sliver of compassion, they would have garnered your lifetime loyalty as their fathers gained from your father. You would have given it without thinking. Short term profit without considering longer term goals never ends well. When generations of farming knowledge leave, the essential expertise is gone. However, as far as you and your family are concerned, comeuppance is too far in the future to have any relevance to you.”

“Everyone shits on the farmers,” she said.

“No, the king shits on his lords who shit on their minor nobility, who then shit on the people,” Zuri said. “The Guras shit on everybody.”

“I thought I was the bitter one,” Yurya said.

Zuri shrugged, preferring not to speak to her challenge because her retort hit close to home. He was angry, bitter, afraid, and out of his element. He had thought the cities were worse, but he was updating his conclusions daily, displeased with the results.

“At least we can water the horses if you would help,” Yurya said. “I don’t like the way those stablemen are looking at me. They make me feel like a piece of meat.”

Zuri examined them, seeing nothing notable in their auras. “My girlfriend used to have the same trouble in Lewa Ilu. The yobs would do a favor and expect ‘a favor’ in return. The young Nobles would simply expect because no one had ever told them ‘No’ before.”

“What did she do?”

“Join the sisterhood of a brothel,” Zuri said with a grin. “If you’re going to get fucked, you might as well get paid for it. Sometimes it’s the money but every time it’s making it safely to the next day. Life is dangerous and if you can’t carry a big stick, stand behind someone who does.”

“Are you sure you’re a Gura?” Yurya asked, as she continued to unhitch the horses.

Taking the bridles she handed them to him, Zuri snorted, “I am the best of the best Gura that you’ll ever meet. I’ve seen some shit, and for the record, I believe.”

“In God?”

“Leaving God aside without offense, I believe in the baseness of human beings,” Zuri said. “There is a great debate among the theologians whether it is for the better or for the worse that human beings were created.”

“What did these theologians conclude?”

“Pray for the better and prepare yourself for the worst,” Zuri said as he led his charges to the water trough. “They had dirty hands too.”

“Again, I ask, are you sure you’re a Gura?” Yurya asked. “You don’t speak like any Gura I’ve met.”

“I’m not wheedling coin out of your threadbare purse like your Gura did,” Zuri said. “I don’t have a temple to support.”

“You gotta eat.”

“I’ll bless your fields and I’ll bless your herds,” Zuri said, thinking quickly. “I blessed your journey and received a ride on a wagon. A blessing for a bed or a blessing for a meal; I seek out what I have to give as a fair exchange.”

“How about bed rights? Are you offering a blessing for those?” She shook her hips at him as she brought over the other horses.

Zuri sniffed. “Bed rights are about asking permission, which is why you are upset with those men standing at the barn door. You are only a farmer, right?”

“Right,” she said. “There are days, however...”

“We all have those days,” Zuri said. “If regrets were apples, we would eat apple pie every day for the rest of our lives.”

“I think I heard the same sentiment in terms that were coarser,” Yurya said.

“Until you think about it. Instead of apple pie, you are eating your regrets every day and they are tearing up your insides,” Zuri said.

“Aren’t you the clever one.”

“My teachers said I was precocious, but I proved them wrong because I was shrewd with tongue and deft with my fingers. Precocious is a word for Nobles who think with their small head instead of the other one.”

“Deft with your fingers? Whatever do you mean?” Yurya said with a smile.

“Come closer, my little mouse, and let me show you,” Zuri said.

She gave him a slight toss of her hips before the sound of two men laughing wiped the smile from her face. She glanced backwards for an instant and straightening her back, she went back to watering the horses, patting them down and checking their hooves. Zuri kept an unobtrusive eye on the two men as they passed comments between themselves. For stable hands, they had a condescending demeanor that did not match their station.

As the horses backed away from the trough, Cardo emerged with a sour face. Zuri recognized the face as akin to his sister’s. Giving a brief update, Cardo told everyone to hitch up the horses and prepare to move down the road where a caravanner’s wayside station was available. As they were hitching up the horses, a patron departed the tavern. He hesitated for a moment before approaching Cardo. Zuri watched the man give Cardo directions, using an outstretched arm to indicate roads, turns, and various places. The man gave a furtive glance towards the barn and left quickly.

The locals’ behavior was enough confirmation for Zuri. He climbed up and took his place on the riding board. Yurya looked forward with a non-responsive face and flicked the reins. They had only traveled a few minutes when Cardo led them onto a nearly overgrown track of a once-maintained small field.

“Good place to let the horses graze,” Yurya said, breaking the silence for the first time. “I’ll go help my sisters-in-law get some dinner cooking while you go help my brothers.”

By the time food was ready, Zuri was a sweaty mess, and the sun was setting. He was at ease and enjoying the company, appreciating the simple courtesies of sharing on the road what one had, be it a strong back or a bit of gruel with fatback. Everyone seemed relaxed.

Zuri followed Yurya back to her wagon. After moving some gear to make room for them to sleep, Zuri lay down with his pack and his staff at his back. Her aura was glowing brightly. Then he felt a kiss on his lips and a hand press against his chest. He felt another hand tugging at his britches as she kept her hands busy.