Chapter 5

Cathy and I were both shivering by the time we arrived at the shore bordering Braka. The nightwinds had gotten stronger and colder as the night went on, and neither of us was properly dressed for the weather. The shore presented its own issues. For one thing, it didn’t look like there was any easy – or rather, dry – way to get into Braka. Almost all the craft neighbouring land had canvas walls preventing entry, and those that didn’t were at best half-sunk and at worst nothing other than a few pieces of driftwood.

The shoreline was a sharp break from the ordered, paved makeup of the city’s streets. The place was not fit for human habitation. Which, of course, meant there were beggars and orphans huddled around fires in small groups as far as the eye could see. The sheer number of fires was surprising. By every account, wood and firewood were two expensive commodities in Karanas, and I didn’t know how people so poor could afford them. I asked Cathy about it.

At first, she didn’t respond. When I asked again, she started and raised one eyebrow in question, as if she hadn’t heard me the first time I’d spoken. For the third time, I gestured at the beggars all around, “Where do they get the firewood?”

She flashed me a quick smile. “That’s what you’re thinking about after all that’s happened tonight?”

I shrugged.

“The wood is flotsam washed ashore from Braka, the quality too low to be sold to people with money. It doesn’t burn properly. Atsa...” She hesitated, and then decided to go on, “Atsa, what happened back there? You ran as if possessed by a demon, straight to the Lady’s temple. How did you know it was there? And why did you stay inside for so long? I’ve warned you about intruding on the Lady’s realm.”

She was asking questions I’d been asking since my audience with the goddess of death had finished. How had I known the temple would be there? What had driven me so strongly towards that place? Why did the Lady talk with me? Perhaps I knew the answer to the first two questions. One would assume a goddess had enough power to guide an unwary mortal into her temple; regardless of whether the mortal wished to go there or knew about the place. But I had no idea why she’d talked with me, why she’d called me ‘harbinger’. I’d asked myself one additional question as well; did I want the superstitious Cathy to know about my face-to-face meeting with her favourite divine? Probably not.

“I don’t know how I knew the way, and I spent my time inside praying. You don’t need to worry about it.”

Technically I told her the truth. If speaking with a godess isn’t prayer, then what is? But she didn’t look exactly happy with my answer, which made sense, who would run like a madman into Death’s realm and then pray for a few minutes before leaving? I’ve always said this about Cathy. She’s a sharp cookie even though her imagination leaves a lot to be desired.

“Where are we going now?” I asked.

“Nowhere till morning. Once the sun rises and people start moving into and out of Braka we’ll know where to enter from. If we want to get in there tonight we’ll have to swim and I don’t think you want to get wet again.”

Even if I was fine with getting wet again, I didn’t know how to swim. I didn’t even know what swimming looked like.

A gruff voice rose from one of the fires nearby. “Hey, red girl, you’re shivering. I’ll give you a blanket and a place around my fire for a ride.”

There were four other people around the fire. Two of them sitting close to the person who’d spoken and two sitting as far from each other and the group as possible.

Cat’s breath caught, and she looked at me questioningly.

“What?”

She shook her head and moved close to me, whispering, “He’s offering a blanket and the fire if I let him fuck me.”

I looked at her, studied the dirty beggar outlined by the fire, and then glanced back at her. What a peculiar situation. A dirty, flea-ridden good-for-nothing was offering badly needed warmth in exchange for ... fucking Cathy. Instead of telling him yes or no, as was her prerogative, she was looking at me with question in her eyes. She was asking my permission to do something I should have had no say in. Cat was an escaped slave, masterless, she was far past asking anyone’s permission for doing anything. So why the question?

And even more interesting was my own reaction. I’ve always dreamed of violently tearing apart my captors; cutting them into pieces limb by limb; cutting strip of muscle off them as they kicked and scream, cooking the meat on gas lamps in my cell and then savouring the burning meat; breaking every single bone in their bodies, grounding the broken bits into fine powder, and using the powder to cook bread for their children. I dreamed of subjecting them – or rather, her, since I now knew who was responsible – to every torture known to mankind. That desire had a reason behind it, whatever one chooses to call it, whether it be revenge or justice or a something else. Violence without reason was never something I’ approved of, much like I disliked anything else done without cause, my imprisonment included. So where did my current burning desire to crush the beggar’s skull come from? Why did I want to press his face into the fire he was so graciously offering to Cat and hold it there for the foreseeable future? Why did I...

The man spoke again. “I’ll even give you a blanket for the boy and food for both of you if you stay on your hands and knees long enough for my friends here.”

I grabbed Cat’s arm to stop her movement towards the fire. I didn’t understand the anger I felt toward the loudmouth and his friends, and I didn’t understand why I didn’t want Cathy to do the fucking she seemed willing enough to do. Nevertheless the feelings existed. I didn’t want them to touch what was mine.

The thought surprised me. I’d never felt possessive towards anything other than my books.

“No, Cat.”

She shrugged. “It’s not like I’ve never had to...” she shrugged again, “I guess we’ll have to be cold until morning. It won’t kill us.”

We sat down against a boulder not far enough away from the three ‘friends’ whose necks I’d have liked to wring with my bare hands. They were clearly visible, even in the low light. I could see the man and his friends glancing over at us from time to time. There was no enmity in their glances, no sign they intended to do anything about our refusal, as I’d feared they might. Yet, I disliked their eyes on Cat. She’d wrapped her hands around me, and we were huddling to conserve heat – at least that’s what Cathy was doing – I would’ve used any excuse to have those soft breasts pressed against my arm, even if their touch was venomous poison. We were both tired. Cathy seemed to be falling asleep against me.

There were so many stars in the sky. I couldn’t recognize any constellations, despite all my reading on them – I’d even memorized a star chart once, but seeing the tiny forms on paper is completely different from trying to find them across the night sky without knowing the time of night or year. But not knowing the names of things didn’t mean I couldn’t enjoy their beauty, even though it did raise questions regarding the nature of beauty. If recognition of an object was to be equated with naming it and –

Fucking philosophers. I wish they’d written more about useful things – like how magic worked – compared to the thousands of words I’d found on the nature of beauty in the natural world. For shame, none them had ever mentioned the beauty of having a redheaded woman in a blood-red dress pressing against you as chilling winds flayed your flesh from your bones. How could they claim to know beauty if they’d never considered how someone’s lips can take your breath away under starlight? What was beauty if not a woman?

Without conscious thought my hand touched Cat’s chin and tilted her head up. Her eyes fluttered as she slowly came out of her short nap and she gasped when my tongue ran across her lips. They didn’t taste special in anyway, but the simple act of licking made my already hard cock throb. She came wide awake, staring at me in astonishment. I realized what I’d done. “Sorry.”

She shook her head and she ran her fingers through my long hair. “It’s okay,” she said in a breathy voice, “but ... what are you doing?”

I was going to answer her, but my instincts had other ideas, and I captured her lips with my own. She gasped into my mouth, and then pulled me back out by my hair.

“Atsa, why didn’t you let me go to those men?”

“Why did you ask me for permission?”

I looked at her clear green eyes as she thought about my question, and I wondered how licking somebody’s eyeball would feel like. The person being licked would surely protest, but If two or three people were to hold the victim in place and –

“I don’t know why I asked your permission.” Cathy interrupted me, I caught the lie in her voice, she knew the answer, but didn’t want to tell me.

“Atsa, do you want me?”

Did I want her? If she was asking whether I wanted to stick my cock inside her, the answer was definitely yes. I hadn’t thought about sticking that particular organ into anything ever before. But what Cathy had done back in my prison had been enjoyable beyond anything I could’ve imagined. My fantasies of revenge had never been able to satisfy me the way her hand had. I’d tried to put it out of my mind, to not think about it until I was free and had the time. Now I was free.

“Yes, I do.”

She moved to sit across my lap, the skirt of her dress pooling around her feet, covering my crotch and thighs. Her breath was hot on my face, her sex felt on fire through layers of clothing, she was smiling. She placed her hands on both sides of my face and kept me there. I hugged her. She was warm, but her presence provided more comfort than simple warmth ever could.

My mind was awash with emotions I hadn’t felt before. From the exhilaration of escape, the sheer mind-numbing terror of meeting a divine, to the strange rage kindled at the beggar’s offer to Cathy. Today was a day for new things; new things I needed to explore to fully understand. It was possible Cat could help me in understanding some of those things – definitely not the parts including a goddess, but maybe the parts that were direct results of the redhead’s presence. “Do you know why I stopped your ... transaction ... with the beggar, Cat?”