Chapter 4

Picking one of the more rag-like cloths from their bundles Nesho started to wipe the blood and gore off the bright metal plate.

"Start putting our things away, dear," she said without looking up.

Moving very slowly Sosho began to untie the bundles, laying their contents out on the bunk sorting them into piles as she went. Suddenly she stopped and looked over at her mother.

"Moth... Nesho, what are we going to do if they come for us?" There was little doubt as to the identity of they.

"Nothing, sweet thing, nothing. If they do, we submit and survive."

"But how can we do nothing?" Her voice trembled barely controlling the tears.

Nesho stopped what she was doing and looked up at her daughter silently. Finally she sighed, "We can do nothing because there is nothing we can do. If we resist, they will hurt us, or worse. If we are raped we will live. You have never known a man my sweet, you don't understand. For the last few years before your father died he was... not gentle... with me.

"You know that after you were born he caught a fever. I am sure it sterilized him, although he would never admit it. He knew it, though, and it changed him. I think he blamed me that we never had another baby; it made him mean, spiteful. When he decided to take me he made sure it hurt as much as possible. So you see I know it's something you can live through. You close your eyes and pretend you are somewhere else. It helps, a little.

"But maybe they won't come for us," she continued. "Right now the only thing protecting us is Dent's reputation. To them he is a fierce and very dangerous warrior. You heard what they were talking about: he killed nine men today. Nine men, by himself. He is the only thing standing between them and us. He scares them. They are terrified of what he could do, as well they should be.

"We must do nothing, nothing, to damage that reputation. It must be known that we are the undisputed property of the most dangerous man on this ship if we want to avoid what is happening to those other poor women."

"But he's Dent, just Dent!" Sosho shook her head as if denying everything Nesho was saying.

"No!" Nesho hissed. "He is Master Dent, Warrior Dent, Dent the Magnificent, Dent the Cruel. Never forget that! Master Dent. We are his; he is not ours. He owns us now just as surely as he owns this armor or his sword. You must treat him like he is the center of your being, like without him you will die, because it is truly so." The vehemence of her words shocked the young girl.

"Dent the Cruel?" Sosho giggled. "He's such a big puff, he couldn't hurt a fly." She was quiet for a moment.

"You, you let that boy think you were, ah, sleeping with him." Sosho's eyes were troubled.

"Of course I did," Nesho answered calmly. "That's exactly what they expect. In fact if they suspect that we're not sleeping with him they're going to start wondering why not and that's something we simply can't afford."

"But sleeping with him? Yuck! The thought makes me sick!" Her hand went to her mouth as if she was trying to stop retching. Then, if possible, her eyes got even wider and she whispered, "We! You said we! You don't expect me to pretend to, oh, be with him do you?"

"You mean fucking him?" Nesho said the word slowly and with emphasis. "You'd better, little one. There better be no doubt in anyone's mind on this ship that he is fucking you. Our lives depend on it!"

"Mother!" she hissed.

Smiling Nesho continued to hammer into the girl with her words. "What, baby? You don't like the word 'fuck?' Well that's what it is. What do you think was going on behind that curtain? Fucking, that's what was going on. What do you think is going to happen to you if we fail here? These men are going to line up and one by one spread your legs and stick their little spears into you until they cum and they will do it as often as they like and there is nothing we can do about it." Suddenly her voice dropped down, dripping with compassion and she sat beside her trembling daughter holding her tight.

"Oh baby, I'd always hoped you would find some nice young man you could love and be happy with, but I'm not sure that can happen now. For now we must survive and if we have to let, or make, everybody on board this ship think we are sleeping with Dent to survive then that's what we'll do."

"Oh gods! What it we really have to do it?" Sosho was shaking again.

"I don't think it will come to that, but if it does, would that be so bad?"

"Mother! That's... that's sick!"

"Hmm, scandalous maybe, but not sick. Remember he is also man and not just your cousin. A very handsome man at that. Think to yourself if you had to do it would you rather be with Dent, who you know loves you, or with say... Garth."

"Well when you put it that way... but Dent? Yuck."

Laughing, Nesho hugged Sosho tightly again and let go.

"If we play the part well enough then we should never have to worry about it now will we... ? Besides, think of poor Dent! An old crone like me or his skinny little cousin? He probably would think 'yuck' also."

"Harrumph," Sosho sniffed, "You're no old crone and I'm certainly not so skinny any longer. He'd have to be crazy not to want us." She sighed and let her shoulders slump, "I don't know if I can do this, Mama. I just want to go home and have you and Dent take care of me again like it used to be. But I'll try to be strong, really I will."

"I know you will, baby, I know you will," Nesho smiled tenderly at her daughter.

"So what do we do? Take turns sharing this bunk with him?"

"Hmm," her mother said thoughtfully. "I hadn't thought that far ahead, to tell the truth. It depends on how closely they watch us. For now I guess I'll share with him; it shouldn't bother either of us all that much. If it looks like we need to, then maybe we'll take turns. We'll just see how it plays out. No sense looking too far ahead; concentrate on the now and wait for the then to take care of itself."

"Speaking of the now, it's back to work for us slaves. Need to get the master's things cleaned and presentable now, don't we?"

"Yes, Momma," she said with a sigh. Then her mouth twisted up like she bit into something very bitter. "Dent? Yuck!"

The object of this fevered discussion was at that time on the main deck trying to stay out of the way of sailors running here and there. With all the activity it was obvious something was going on but it wasn't until he saw the planks between the two ships being pulled back aboard the warship that he understood: the ships were separating and getting ready to set sail. Although this was interesting in an abstract sort of way, it didn't get him cleaned up nor suggest a plan for living through the next few hours.

Nesho was right, he thought. I need to look the part if these bastards are going to believe me. Yes, he was a trained warrior and now a blooded one as well, he mused, but one battle against pretty pathetic sailor/solders doesn't a warrior make. At least for the moment they were all alive and together and as Nesho said, that was a miracle in and of itself. Now how was he going to keep up this farce? One slip is all it will take and he'd be dead -- not important -- and his aunt and cousin would be truly slaves and all that entailed -- important! Gods, he groaned, give me strength!

First things first, and the first thing is getting cleaned up. Strolling over to a sailor who didn't seem to be particularly busy, he asked where he might find some water to wash off all the blood. Although not overtly unfriendly, his new acquaintance didn't exactly go out of his way to welcome Dent aboard, either, which was just fine with him. He didn't want enemies but he wasn't particularly interested in friends, either; allies maybe, but not friends.

Although the sailor watched him like someone would a strange dog they weren't sure was safe, he at least pointed him towards the area where he could use a bucket to dip seawater up to use in a wash down. He explained that the large casks spaced around the main deck, and some below, were fresh water that shouldn't be used for bathing. After washing with seawater a little fresh water on a rag was used to wipe the body down. Not much different than the other ship they had been traveling on.

Stripping down to his small clothes he listened to the sailors relaying orders to and from the rigging as they set and trimmed the sails. The slight breeze began to fill the sheets and he could hear them cracking as they stiffened under its force. Ponderously the great ship shook itself and began to make headway. In the distance he could see the Pinya also with sail up, the small white bow wave the only indication she was also making way.

The seawater stung slightly as he rinsed his body removing the evidence of the morning's business. Several small cuts became evident as he washed and undoubtedly some of the blood he washed away had been his own but the battle high followed by exhaustion kept him from feeling any of these fairly minor wounds. He noticed that none of them had been bleeding recently, however the saltwater washing removed the forming scab from a few and they were starting to ooze slightly. He reminded himself to have Nesho dab some ointment on them when she got time. Infection right now would be unfortunate. Quickly rinsing his tunic and trousers he laid them out in the afternoon sun to dry.

Drying quickly, the saltwater left his skin feeling a bit crusty but the mild discomfort was easily ignored. What couldn't be ignored was the tightness and cramping in his muscles. Ingrained habit and the discipline of training demanded this be taken care of before serious injury or disability could set in. Groaning with the effort he began the slow methodical stretching and limbering exercises that were as much a part of life to him now as breathing or eating.

Bend, stretch, flex, his young supple body automatically entering into the dance of the T'chi. Said to be as old as time the T'chi looked to the casual observer to be nothing more than random movements done in slow motion. The Crane, to the Goose, flowing into the Cat and then the Hawk. Each position carefully choreographed, every muscle stretched and flexed. Slowly the body was brought into balance, heart rate accelerated and then brought down to normal. The seeming ease and grace of the movements were belied by the sheen of sweat covering his body. Muscles protested; the desire to quicken the pace resisted. Finally with the cooling down stretches completed Dent became fully aware of his surroundings again. He was again amazed at how quickly the time seemed to pass when he was fully engaged in his exercises. Sometimes he wondered what would happen if he was attacked during the T'chi or if he would even be aware of it. He had asked his instructors that very question once receiving little more than a smile and an assurance that the body would react as needed under such circumstances.

As his surroundings came back into focus, breathing deeply but not heavily, he was aware he was not alone. Leaning against railings or squatting along bulkheads a group of some ten or twelve sailors lounged while seemingly relaxed, while watching him intently. Although he wanted to ignore their presence, to do so didn't feel right. Coming to attention he executed a short equal-to-equal bow and turned back to his clothing at the rail.

"Pretty little dance there, youngster. Any particular reason for it other than for maybe our amusement?"

Turning back Dent locked eyes with the sailor who had spoken. He was older than most, a brown weather-beaten face covered by a gray beard with piercing ice-blue eyes set above. There didn't seem to be any malice in those eyes, nor friendship either, just curiosity. Bending down, he picked up the bucket of seawater and poured it over his head and body rinsing much of the sweat away.

"It's called the T'chi," he said softly turning back to oldster that made the comment. "It's an exercise used to tune the body and mind, to prepare." Then with a grin he added, "If it also amuses you then that's just a bonus."