Donn: Laundry Day

Noor sat with the twins and three-year-old Donnal, waving goodbye, until Shurala was out of sight on the road down to the village. He was off to Dylath-Leen with a group of villagers to sell the year’s wool, along with a few lambs that had been born a bit early and were now big enough.

He’d be back the next day unless something unusual happened. Donn and Hakim had left on their trading route, taking young Jasque with them, so there would only be women and children here until he returned: Pensri, Noor, and new Hafsah, and the children in their care. Mahelt was there, too, of course, but she rarely left the house at all, even though she was an enormous help inside with cooking, washing, watching the children, and other tasks.

Pensri whistled the dogs to get the sheep moving, herding them up the hill to pasture. Barbi and Scamp knew the job well, having done it almost every morning for years, and the sheep knew better than to try to cross the dogs.

When they weren’t on sheep duty the dogs were free to roam the vineyard, too, which covered most of the south-facing slope. The ducks took care of most of the insects that came to eat the grapes, and the dogs kept larger pests under control.

Lush spring grass, young leaves on the trees, blue sky, and brindle dogs herding the freshly sheared sheep—it was a beautiful pastoral day, and she loved it.

Uralorea was with her, still learning how things worked here. Recently adopted, she had settled in with only a few minor problems now mostly taken care of, and was maturing into a happy, beautiful young woman. Pensri walked close to the sheep to keep an eye on them and command the dogs as needed, with Uralorea walking well behind, holding hands with twelve-year-old Arthit.

She opened the gate, and the dogs chivvied the sheep through into the high pasture where they’d spend the day. Leaving the dogs to watch them, the three of them walked the fence, checking it for fallen or loose poles. There were one or two that might need replacing later in the year, she thought, but everything looked safe for now.

On one section the bones of mountain were laid bare, and it was impossible to erect a fence. Donn and the others had built a stone wall there instead, a relatively low wall that only served to keep the sheep from wandering off. While the stones had been fitted and angled, they were not cemented into place, and the winter storms had dislodged a number of them.

The three of them fixed the wall up as well as they could, but in several places some stones seemed to be missing entirely, and although they searched the area diligently, they couldn’t be found.

“It must have been a stone ogre,” said Pensri.

Uralorea looked at her in surprise.

“Stone ogres? What are stone ogres?”

“Oh, they’re just horrible. They are all made of stone and they come at night and eat little boys!”

She jumped at Arthit, hands outstretched like a ravenous monster, and he screamed with laughter as he ran away.

There may not be any such thing as a stone ogre, she thought, but there are wolves…

They were rarely seen around here in the spring—the generally roved further north, in the Sarrub Mountains up to Mt. Sidrak—but the high pasture still needed a shepherd on watch. Barbi and Scamp would do their best, but a full-grown wolf could weigh sixty or seventy kilograms and their dogs only about thirty… plus which, wolves usually hunted in packs. An armed shepherd was really needed to be sure, rare as it was.

The dogs would keep the sheep under control and let her know if wolves—or anything else—approached, so once she was done checking the fence she could sit with Uralorea and Arthit and teach them more about the sheep, the dogs, and just running the farm.

They talked for about an hour or so, and then they heard distant barking.

Pensri glanced down at the house.

A carriage had come up from the village. She thought it looked like the Headmistress… which might mean a new one had arrived.

“Uralorea, can you handle this for a little while? I have to run back to the house and see what’s happened.”

“Of course, mama,” replied the girl. “We didn’t have any wolves on Ma-ka-Tuo-Rasha, but the rock lizards are about the same size, and certainly as dangerous. If any wolves show up we’ll take care of them, won’t we, Arthit?”

“Yeah, if Scamp and Barbi don’t get ’em first!”

“You keep an eye out now, boy!” she warned, and nodded to Uralorea. “If I’m not back by then, make sure you bring them all back down well before dusk.”

“Yes, mama, we will.”

Pensri left the basket with lunch—bread, cheese, a few of the very last strawberries of winter, and water—and strode back down the road to the house, her own bow in hand.

One look at the carriage told her it was indeed Headmistress Kiarna, as she had thought. She quickly entered the house to see why she had come.

The Headmistress was sitting in the main room sipping tea, and next to her sat a young woman, perhaps eighteen or twenty, with a babe to her breast. She was wearing a mud-stained and torn tunic, and a glance at her legs showed she’d been through the woods, and probably brambles.

“Another runaway from the city,” explained Noor. “Garood’s place.”

Garood was one of the more unpleasant whoremasters of Dylath-Leen, buying slaves to service his clientele. Slaves were cheap, and it was more profitable to use and discard them than to invest large sums into keeping them healthy. A pregnant slave was usually forced to abort; this woman obviously hadn’t.

“She showed up half an hour ago, came stumbling out of the woods. Garood wanted the child for some reason, and she fled rather than give it up.”

Pensri sighed.

This was a common occurrence here at House Penia, and it always meant danger.

“The Sisters?”

The Headmistress nodded, her eyes still fixed on the window, looking for pursuers.

The Sisters of Mercy ran shelters and orphanages in many of the major cities, accepting abandoned children or women and ostensibly offering protection. In fact, as Pensri knew from first-hand experience, they were merely slavers by another name, renting or selling their helpless guests to others.

She had been an escaped slave herself, many years ago, until Donn had bought her contract and freed her. That was why they had founded House Penia here, in Donn’s ancestral home, and over the years had watched it grow from a home and scattered homesteads to a thriving village mostly populated by the people they had helped, or saved.

When possible they would buy out the contracts of runaways to minimize troubles with the Dylath-Leen guard. The guard, after all, was supposed to honor warrants to recover stolen property—which in this case meant slaves—and although many of them agreed with Donn that the practice was an abomination, it wasn’t always possible to look the other way.

Garood had some very wealthy, very well-connected backers who would surely make it impossible this time, too, if Garood pressed the point. And depending what he’d wanted the baby for it might not even be possible to buy their contracts.

“What is your name, child?” asked Noor.

The woman replied in a voice so soft they could barely make it out: “Sadiki.”

“Sadiki was taken in Parg,” explained the Headmistress, “about five years ago. She says they killed her father and kidnapped her.”

“Bastards,” spit Pensri. “And the Sisters sold her to Garood?”

“She thinks so. She was moved around a lot.”

“How old is the babe?”

“Only a week. His name is Kandoro.”

“Do you know what Garood wants with him?”

She shook her head and clutched the baby tighter.

Hafsah came in with a fresh pot of tea and a plate of cakes and fruit, and set them on the table. Her own baby was sleeping in a basket in the corner.

“Here is a clean tunic,” she said, “and some diapers for the babe.”

Sadiki bobbed her head several times in thanks but made no move to take them.

Pensri rose from the low table and motioned the Headmistress to join her. Hafsah and Noor were only a bit older than, and Hafsah had birth her own firstborn only a few months earlier, and Pensri thought that perhaps they would be able to help the poor woman better. It must have taken incredible courage, and strength, for her to flee alone from Dylath-Leen and come this far.

Ten-year-old Eshan walked alongside Pensri, holding his mother’s hand.

They returned to the Headmistress’ carriage.

“How close do you think they are?”

“No sign of pursuit yet,” said the Headmistress, “but they could be anywhere. Sadiki could have fled anywhere, though, too, you know.”

“Of course, but we’re the obvious place to look first. Goodness knows we’ve had slave catchers through her enough in the past.”

“I’ll do what I can, but…”

“I know. Thank you, Kiarna. I do wish Donn and Shu were here, tho…”

The Headmistress climbed up and snapped the reins.

“They’ll be back on the morrow, I’m sure.”

“I hope. Try to send me a runner if you see anyone, will you?”

“Of course. Good luck, Mistress.”

“And safe journey to you.”

Pensri stood watching the Headmistress drive down the road back to the village, until Eshan tugged on her hand.

“What is it, Eshan?” she asked, turning… and stopped in surprise.

Three men on horseback were watching her from the edge of the trees.

Garood’s men!

She whistled, and a handful of dogs jumped to the alert, noticing the distant men and barking up a racket in warning. The barking would alert Noor and Hafsah, too.

The men cantered toward her, and she stood her ground, waiting for them to approach.

“Name yourselves!” she commanded, a perfectly reasonable demand of unknown visitors. The dogs fell silent at her command, but continued watching the men warily.

They stopped a couple dozen meters distant, and the older man replied, indicating himself first and then the other two younger men in order, “Pailaro of Dylath-Leen, Tal of Dylath-Leen, and Ilman Tuk of Hlanith.”

“Pensri of Dylath-Leen,” she replied.

“Never knew Dylath-Leen extended this far out in the hills,” he said, looking around.

“The village is known as House Penia.”

“Penia… goddess of the poor and weak,” laughed Tal, a young blond strapping a long sword. “Well, this valley certainly looks the part!”

Pailaro waved at the other man to stop talking, and turned back to Pensri.

“May we trouble you for some water, Mistress Pensri?”

She hesitated.

She wanted them to leave as soon as possible, but it was custom to offer travelers water, even food and rest if necessary. Refusing them with no good reason could lead to all sorts of problems… but with an escaped slave in the house…

Noor and Hafsah had heard the dogs and the man’s request, and Noor knew what it meant. She jumped to her feet and pulled up one of the mats next to the firepit.

“Quickly, Mistress Sadiki! Down the ladder! There is no torch, but the tunnel is smooth and straight… just follow it and wait at the other end.”

The woman hesitated, looking down into the darkness.

“There is no time! Garood’s men will be here soon!”

“Trust us, Mistress,” said Hafsah, lifting her own baby out of its basket and holding it in her arms. “We will protect you, and your beautiful Kandoro.”

Sadiki glanced at them once again, then hurried down the ladder, her baby in one arm.

Noor dropped the mat down again, and dragged Hasfah’s baby basket on top. Hasfah promptly sat down on the floor and began rocking her baby, which was beginning to cry at being awakened.

There were numerous caves and tunnels around the main house, used for aging the wine and cheese Penia was famous for. And not surprisingly, given the village’s reputation as a safe haven for escaping slaves, it also had a lot of secret tunnels and hiding places. Noor and Hasfah had no worries about Sadiki being discovered as long as she stayed quiet.

A few minutes later Pensri came in, the men behind her. They’d left their swords on the stand at the entrance, as was custom, but of course still had their daggers.

“Please, rest here,” she said. “Noor, could I trouble you to fetch some tea for our guests? They’re just passing through.”

Noor nodded and left the room, returning almost immediately with cups and a pitcher of wheat tea on a wooden tray.

She knelt on the floor and poured the cups, handing each of the men the cup and a small towel, the minimum custom demanded.

The women were silent, obviously on edge.

“A very nice house,” said Pailaro, sipping the tea.

Tal slurped his tea and put the empty cup down on the mat, then wiped his face and neck with the towel.

The third man, Ilman Tuk, drank his tea quietly, his eyes on Hafsah and Noor. 

“So you’re here alone, then?”

“My husband is on the slopes and will be back soon,” said Pensri, trying to avoid unpleasantries.

“I see.”

“Pretty baby,” said Ilman Tuk to Hafsah. “What’s his name?”

“Nelchaka,” replied Hafsah quietly. “He just woke up…”

“He’s beginning to cry… maybe he needs feeding?”

Hafsah turned her back to the man and brought the baby to her nipple.

“Oh, no need to be embarrassed,” he said, smiling. “Motherhood is so beautiful, after all. And your breasts are so big with milk…”

“Ilman! Cool it!” snapped Pailaro.

“If you’re finished with your tea,” suggested Pensri, “we have work to do, and I’m sure you need to get back to your journey.”

“Oh, I don’t think we need to hurry that much,” said blond Tal. “Where’s the other woman?”

“Other woman? What other woman?” asked Pensri, tilting her head.

“There’s nobody else here,…” said Hafsah. “Nelchaka just woke up.”

The men looked around the room… certainly nobody else there.

“We saw her go in! Where is she?”

Pensri moved to stand between them and Hafsah.

“She is not here, you can see for yourself. Now go; you are upsetting the children.”

Attracted by the noise, Noor’s six-year-old twins Behzad and Leila stood the doorway, while Eshan was hiding behind Pensri, peeking out at the intruders.

Pailaro stepped forward, standing so close as to almost step on Pensri’s toes.

“We have a warrant,” he grated pulling out a small scroll and waving it. “I want them. Now.”

“I don’t have them,” said Pensri, glaring up into his face. She turned to the other women.

“Noor, take the children and go upstairs.”

“No, I think she’ll stay right here with us,” said Pailaro. “Isn’t that right, Ilman?”

Ilman Tuk, drew his dagger and pulled Noor close, while Tal was disturbingly close to Hafsah.

“Eshan!”

Pensri knelt in front of her son, and hugged him.

“You’re the man of the house now, Eshan. I have a very important task for you, Eshan, can you do it for me?”

Eshan nodded seriously.

“I want you to take the children upstairs, and, um… oh, yes, I’ve forgotten to hang the blankets out in the sun. Go upstairs, Eshan, and put the blankets out to air!”

Eshan nodded.

“The red blanket, Mama?”

She tousled his hair.

“Yes, Eshan. My red blanket. Now go.”

She spun him around and gave him a little push, and everyone watched the children march off to the stairs.

“She is not here, you can see that,” said Pensri, turning back again.

“Then we will search every room of this house, and tear it down if need be, until we find her!”

“You shall not!”

“They’re lying, Pailaro. We saw the bitch go in, she’s here. Maybe if I stick her a few times they’ll remember where she’s hiding…”

Ilman waved his dagger in front of Noor’s face.

“Let her go!” commanded Pensri. “It’s me you want to talk to, not her.

“And just why should we do that, Mistress?” asked Pailaro. “Give us the girl. Or…”

He gestured toward his partner, still holding his dagger and Noor.

“She is not here!”

Pailaro nodded, and the dagger tip sank into Noor’s arm.

She screamed in pain, and tried to pull away.

Ilman just laughed, and pulled her closer.

“We’re gonna have a lot of fun together,” he said. “A little pain makes it feel so much better, you know. You’re gonna love it.”

“Hey, Ilman, cool it. We’re here on a warrant.”

“Screw that,” spit the other. “Let’s do ’em, find the stupid slaves, and burn this dump.” He looked over at Hafsah, holding her baby tight. “All three of ’em.”

He ran the tip of the dagger over Noor’s breast, leaving a thin red line on the tunic.

“You entered on a warrant,” said Pensri. “I told you that those you seek are not here, truthfully. You stabbed Noor, and have threatened us with rape and murder.”

Her voice was clear and strong.

Behind her the door slid open, and three villagers stepped in, two women and a man. They were unarmed except for their ever-present daggers, and just stood in the doorway for a moment.

Pensri whistled, and there was the sound of claws scratching across wood floors. A dozen brindle dogs, teeth bared and ears flat, burst into the room. They spread out around the room, bellies low to the floor as they stalked, and lay down, tails still and eyes fixed on the intruders.

Pailaro grabbed Pensri, and held her with a knife to her throat, backing up slowly toward the other two, who held their own hostages. They stood, back to back, facing the pack.

“Surrender now,” commanded Pensri. “You have broken your oaths, but there is still time.”

Five more villagers entered the room from a different door, silently spreading out against that wall.

“Shut up, bitch,” snapped Pailaro. “We’re walking out of here or you die with your mutts.

“Everyone, back the fuck up! And get those dogs back, too!”

She was silent, and he held the knife closer, touching the sold edge to her throat.

“Do it!”

She whistled, and the dogs, crouched low with eyes fixed on the men, slowly retreated.

Another door slid open as more villagers entered.

They were all armed with something: daggers, of course, but a few swords, some firewood axes, even one hoe. None of the daggers or swords were drawn, but they could be.

The three men retreated toward the firepit, surrounded on all sides by silent villagers. There were about two dozen of them now, and footsteps made it clear more were coming.

The dogs crept backwards, but only as far as the wall of watching villagers. Pailaro half-carried, half-dragged Pensri toward them, and toward the door.

Ilman Tuk was just behind him with Noor, and Tal with Hafsah.

The villagers didn’t move, blocking every exit from the room.

“What is this…? Back up, all of you!” shouted Pailaro. “Or I’ll slice her!”

Pensri, her head tilted back to expose her throat to the knife, held up her hand.

“You can kill me, and they will kill you. Or you can let me go and walk out of here. Which will it be?”

Hafsah’s baby began screaming.

“Shut up!” shouted Tal, and slapped Hasfah across the face. She dropped to her knees, bending over the protect her child, and the villagers are took a few steps forward, daggers suddenly appearing in many hands.

“Let them go,” said one of the encircling men, dressed in nothing but a loincloth, and holding a half-meter long machete.

“Or what?”

“Or you’ll not leave here alive,” he said quietly. “You don’t look as stupid as those youngsters.”

Pailaro glanced around at the throng of surrounding villagers and slowly released Pensri. She stepped away from him, turned, and held out her hand for his dagger. Grudgingly, he held it out hilt first.

She took it, holding it with the point down toward the mat, and looked toward the other two men.

“We allowed you into our home, showed you the hospitality due a traveler, and this is how you treat us?”

“Give us the slaves and we’ll leave!” spat Ilman Tuk.

“There are no slaves in this house, as you can see. Now decide.”

He licked his lips, looked at the villagers, then slowly released Noor as he slipped his dagger back into its sheath.

The villagers took one more step forward, this time their attention focused on the third man, Tal, who was standing over huddled Hafsah, his eyes darting about, searching for escape.

A middle-aged woman stepped closer, unarmed but jaw set, and Tal spun to face her, dagger slashing through the air in a threat. At his movement, Hafsah pulled away and scuttled away into the crowd. Tal was left standing alone, surrounded by dozens of silent villagers and half that many daggers.

“Tal, give it up, boy,” called Pailaro. “It’s not worth getting yourself killed for a little gold.”

“She’s worth fifty gold pieces!”

“Won’t do you any good if you’re dead, lad.”

Tal spun around again in a crouch, waving his dagger, slashing at the villagers to keep them away.

They retreated in front of him, but those behind him took one more step closer.

“Tal! Put the dagger down!”

Tal’s face was twisted in a snarl.

“But we know she’s here!”

“There are no slaves in this house,” repeated Pensri clearly. “Now put down your dagger, and go.”

Tal roared in rage and threw his dagger into the floor mat, sinking it almost to the hilt in the reeds.

The villagers pressed forward, and herded the three men out of the room and back outside.

Reeve Brukah was there with Headmistress Kiarna, and another two dozen villagers. More were coming up the road from the village, on horseback or on foot, and from other farms scattered across the hillside.

Healer Chimalmat went to Noor and applied a poultice to the wound in her arm.

Pensri looked up at the second floor, where a red blanket was draped over the windowsill, flashing a crimson signal that could be seen from almost anywhere in the valley.

Above it, in the open window, she could see Eshan’s worried face.

She waved, then turned back to the Reeve.

“Reeve Brukah, I demand a Truthing.”

The Reeve nodded, and looked around the gathered villagers.

“Truthsayer Aninagria? Has anyone seen the Truthsayer?”

“I’m coming, I’m coming. Leg doesn’t work as well as it used to since that boar,” she grumbled, as she walked forward between the villagers.

She stepped in front of the two slave-catchers, bound kneeling in the dirt.

“A Truthing has been called. Mistress Pensri, step forward.”

Pensri walked forward to stand in front of the Truthsayer, and held out her hand.

Aninagria took out her pin and drew a drop of blood from Pensri’s finger.

“Mistress Pensri?”

“These men said they were slave-catchers, and claimed to have a warrant. They insisted on entering to search, claiming they had seen her enter, and I told them that no such woman was in the house. They then took us hostage, stabbed Noor in the arm with a dagger, and threatened to rape and kill us.”

“Is there a slave in the house?”

“There is no slave in the house.”

“She speaks truth,” said Aninagria, and turned to Noor.

“Your finger, mistress.”

Noor stepped forward and held out her finger for the pinprick.

“Is what Mistress Pensri said truth?”

“Yes.”

“She speaks truth.”

The Truthsayer turned to Pailaro.

“What is your name?”

“I am Pailaro of Dylath-Leen, and I have a warrant! You cannot hold me, Reeve!”

“Mistress Noor has blood on her arm that suggests we can, Master Pailaro. That is why the Truthsayer has come,” said Reeve Brukah, standing some distance back to give the Truthsayer room.

The Truthsayer held out her hand, and Pailaro held his finger out.

“Is what Mistress Pensri said truth, Master Pailaro?”

“We saw the woman enter the house!” he shouted, and pointed at the Headmistress. “That woman brought her here in her carriage, and she went in!”

“Answer my question, Master Pailaro. Is what she said truth?”

“Yes, it is truth, but…”

“He speaks truth,” she said, cutting him off.

“Ask her where the woman is!” shouted the slave-catcher, but the Truthsayer ignored him, turning to face the Ilman Tuk.

“What is your name?”

He just spat on the ground.

“She is a Truthsayer. You would do well to answer,” advised the Reeve.

Grudgingly, “Ilman Tuk of Hlanith.”

“Master Ilman Tuk, is what she said truth?”

“Yes. And what Paisaro said is truth too!”

“That is a different matter; this Truthing is on your actions, nothing else.”

He spat again, and Truthsayer Aninagria stepped to the third man.

“What is your name?”

“Tal of Dylath-Leen,” quietly.

“Tal of Dylath-Leen, is what she said truth?”

“…yes.”

The Truthsayer nodded.

“Reeve Brukah, you have heard the truth. Judgment is yours.”

The Reeve stepped forward and slammed her staff of office into the ground.

“I find that Pailaro of Dylath-Leen, Ilman Tuk of Hlanith, and Tal of Dylath-Leen have violated their oaths as slave-catchers, and as such are not protected from punishment for their actions. I find that you have broken the code of hospitality. I find that you have stabbed, without cause, Noor of Dylath-Leen. I find that you have threatened three women with rape and death. I find that you have taken three women hostage.

“The punishment is death.”

“Death!? You can’t do that!” he shouted. “We have a warrant!”

“Your warrant is meaningless,” replied the Reeve, unmoved. “You invalidated it by your actions.”

“But what about the girl?”

“What of her? This Truthing is on your actions, not anyone else’s.

“However, as you did not in fact commit rape or murder, the punishment of death is hereby held in abeyance, and you are exiled from this village. You are never to return, or the punishment will be carried out.”

“What about our side of the story? We saw that girl! And we have a warrant for her!”

“You can’t do this!”

“I can, and I have,” she said, striking her staff on the ground once more and turning away.

The villagers surged forward, manhandling the three up onto their horses. They were escorted to the end of the valley, and the road to Dylath-Leen.

Pensri bowed to the Reeve and Truthsayer Aninagria.

The Reeve nodded her head in response, then turned to the Headmistress.

“It worked out this time, Kiarna, but if they hadn’t hung the red blanket outside upstairs it would have ended differently. We must be more careful next time.”

The Headmistress hung her head.

“I’m sorry. The poor girl was in such a state I just…”

“Mistress Pensri, you had better get that signal down before Master Shurala returns or he’ll have a fit. Is the girl alright?”

“Yes, Reeve, she’s fine. She’s down in the tunnel, waiting for us and at wit’s end.”

“Well, get her cleaned up and we’ll figure out what to do next. Lucky thing there weren’t more of them.”

“Nobody here will say anything; we all know the Sisters of Mercy and their ilk all too well. But we’d better stay alert for another week or so just to be sure… they know where slaves run to.”

“Someday they’ll come in force: the Sisters, or Garood, or any of those monsters.”

“Someday they will, and we’ll be ready for them.”

“I don’t think Shu will mind if open a cask of wine for everyone… will you join us?”

“With pleasure, Mistress Pensri. With pleasure.”

And she did.

END