Of Ash & Linen

The crunch of dirt between her teeth made her skin crawl. She took another gulp of water from the pouch Nyra had left her, swished it around and spit. It was her own fault. She had watched the food tumble out of the basket satisfied with herself. Later, after hunger had gnawed at her for hours, she had regretted it. She had gathered up the basket and the food and salvaged it the best she could.

Nyra had left her a leather pouch filled with water, a handful of dried fruit, a wedge of goat cheese, and a strange type of flattened bread that Ava had never seen before. The texture was strange and dense, but the flavor was good. Some of the fruits she recognized, but a few of the varieties were new to her as well. She was able to wipe most of the dirt from the fruit and bread, but a few grains still made it to her mouth as she ate. Luckily the cheese had been wrapped in a small cloth, so it had remained unscathed.

Embarrassed, she was glad that Nyra hadn’t come back before she’d cleaned up the mess. When she did return, she came with more food and an offer to escort Ava to the stream again. Ava tried to survey more of the camp on the way to the stream, but night had fallen and she couldn’t see much. She was able to see the glow of a large fire reflecting off of several tents near the center of the camp. Nyra caught her staring in that direction on their way back to the storehouse.

“It’s called a balefire. I expect you’ve never seen one,” Nyra nodded in the direction of the fire.

“Balefire?” Ava asked, listening to the noises coming from the fire. The sounds didn’t fit. She heard bits of conversation and laughter, neither of which belonged in the mysterious camp of her oppressors.

“It is a gathering of our community, at the center of camp after evening has fallen. Everyone contributes and everyone eats. Neighbors share stories of their day and hunters brag about their latest catch. All members of the tribe are present.”

“The whole tribe takes their evening meal together?”

“It must seem a strange custom to you. You Minoran’s, so withdrawn from your own society. You hide in your buildings and your keeps and eat your meals alone.” Nyra shook her head disapprovingly and reached out to open the flap of the tent. “You ask me, people who make it a point to avoid other people have something to hide.”

“Just because we prefer to eat alone doesn’t mean we’re avoiding anyone,” Ava said as she turned away from the distant glow of the fire and followed Nyra into the tent. “Maybe we just like the quiet. And most Minorans don’t eat alone; they take meals with their families. Can you imagine how absurd it would be to have everyone in the city gather in one place all at once to eat?”

Nyra gave a sharp laugh.

“If you do not gather, how do you share news?”

“Well…” Ava thought for a moment, “there are postings made in the city center by the chancellors and my uncle’s councilmen. And if I have something I’d like to share with someone, I write a letter.”

“Yes, I have seen your letters.” The meaning in the woman’s words was not lost on Ava.

The blaze of anger and shame flared up again inside her momentarily.

“We haven’t got much in the way of paper here,” Nyra continued. “Haven’t got much of a need for it either.”

Ava took her seat among the sacks and barrels as Nyra traded out the basket from this morning with a fresh one. A sudden hush fell. The distant noises had faded, and a singular voice rose to fill the air. It was Kallan, his tone clear and commanding.

“Oh, I must be going child. No one is to miss the kival’s address.”

“Kival. The king,” Ava whispered under her breath as she strained to hear what he was saying. It was no use. He was too far away.

“I’ll be back in the morning, child,” Nyra said has she ducked out of the tent, letting the flap close behind her.

Ava listened to the timbre of the voice as the indiscernible syllables rose and fell. There was a load of hooting and applauding at the end of his speech, and the regular noises of the balefire resumed. She listened to the sounds while she ate alone in the tent with nothing but the soft glow of her lamp to keep her company.

A pattern began to emerge over the next few days. Nyra arrived in the mornings shortly after sunrise with Ava’s breakfast. She would take Ava to the stream to relieve herself and wash. Then Ava would be left alone for the rest of the day until she heard the sounds of the balefire. Right before the gathering began every night, Nyra would return to take her to stream once more and leave her with her evening meal.

Kallan didn’t address the tribe every night, but when he did Ava found herself holding her breath. She strained to hear what he said but could never make out so much as a word.

After Nyra brought her morning meal after her third night in the tent, Ava became restless. She could no longer sit and surrender to her dismal thoughts.

Ava stood to survey the tent. It was tall, reaching at least five feet above her head in the center. There was a thick post there that held several taut ropes that branched out in all directions to support the fabric of the tent. About two-thirds of the tent floor was covered in piles of burlap sacks and small wooden barrels and crates.

Squeezing behind the piles of crates and sacks, Ava slowly made her way around the circumference of the tent. She carefully examined the siding as she went, looking for any holes or rips in the fabric. Finding none, she focused her attention on the sacks. Most were sewn shut, but a few had been opened and sat half empty with a rope tight around the opening.

Working the knots with her fingers, she eventually was able to untie them one-by-one. Once, she heard some voices outside the tent and scrambled to retie the sack she was working on. She waited several minutes after the voices passed before continuing. Several of the sacks held wheat or corn, and one was filled with apples. Another was filled with a small, perfectly round purple fruit that she had never seen before. She lifted one of the strange fruits from the bag and examined it. It was small, about the size of the hollow of her palm, and the skin was shiny and smooth. She brought it to her nose, taking in its sweet scent.

Thought tempted to discover its taste, Ava returned the fruit to the sack. After retying all of the sacks, she moved on to the barrels. All of them were full of liquid, and all of them were firmly sealed. Most of the crates were nailed shut as well, but Ava managed to find two that had been opened and left with the lids lightly resting atop. Inside one was a pile of dried and salted meat. Inside the other was more of the goat cheese Nyra had been bringing her.

An idea had begun to form in Ava’s mind. She was only a few hours ride from the king’s road, she was surrounded by rations with no direct supervision, and the entire population of the camp gathered in the center of the grounds every night. They were very loud for hours, and they were very distracted.

Ava sat and closed her eyes, going over the details in her mind over and over again until she was satisfied. When Nyra came to take her to the stream that evening, Ava was firm in her course. The first thing she needed was a stone.

This proved to be more difficult than she had anticipated. As she quickly discovered, all of the rocks in the streambed had been made glassy smooth by the water’s current. Kneeling behind the large stone that had become her only point of privacy on her outings, Ava dropped the rocks she had gathered back into the stream. She leaned back against the large bolder and considered. She’d have to find and hide a stone from the edge of the stream right under Nyra’s nose. As an afterthought, she ran her hands around the top edge of the boulder hoping to find a loose stone but she found none.

She set her resolve, composed her face, and began wading through the calf high water until she made it back to Nyra at the bank. Nyra was sitting on a large, flat stone braiding the long mane of a horse that had approached while Ava was away. More horses were grazing near a group of women who were gathered further down the stream cleaning laundry and chattering. They cast distrustful glances at Ava and then turned their backs to her.

“Finished?” Nyra asked, glancing at her.

“Almost,” Ava said as she took the opportunity to pull her hair out of its own braid. Kneeling, she began running her fingers through the knots. She kept her head down, and turned her eyes up to Nyra, using the thick strands as a shield. Nyra was focused on the horse.

Ava quickly scanned the ground, finding what she needed a foot to her right. She tossed her hair to the other side of her head and rotated to the right. She sat back, her grimy skirts falling just over the rock she had spotted. Peering up at Nyra again through her hair, Ava slid her hands, still tied together with linen, slowly to the ground, grasped the rough-edged rock, and slid it into her skirt pocket. No one had checked her for weapons since the first day. The idea had been comical to her then, a lady of Minore concealing a weapon inside her clothing. She didn’t think the idea was so humorous anymore. Now she rather found it tempting.

Ava brought her hands back to her hair slowly and straightened. Nyra hadn’t noticed a thing. After rebraiding her hair, Ava stood and dusted off her skirts. Nyra noticed she was ready and stood as well, patting the horse on its rump until it trotted away. The two women made their way back to Ava’s tent.

Nyra took one of the burlap sacks with her when she left that time as she sometimes did. Ava thought it was one that held the strange purple fruits.

After making herself count to one hundred once Nyra left, Ava finally pulled the stone from her pocket and examined it. She smiled. The surface was rough and jagged, nipping at her skin as she ran her fingers over it. It was perfect. The stone was only the first step in Ava’s escape plan, and she had much more to accomplish is she were to be free. However, this small success, this thing that she had done all on her own, made her feel not quite so hopeless as before.

Ava listened to the noises outside her tent. Night had fallen and she could hear the sounds of the balefire in the distance. She wasted no time.

Ava stood and made her way to the back of the tent, the side that faced the center of camp. There was a stack of crates there with a few sacks resting on top. She pulled one of the crates forward until she had about six inches of clearance between it and the tent wall. Then she sat and pulled out her stone. Ava pressed the stone against the fabric of the tent and began rubbing. She focused on an area about half the size of her palm. After a while, she could see a small abrasion in the fabric. She worked at the tent side with the stone stopping intermittently to check her progress.

By the time she poked through the other side of the fabric, she was covered in a layer of sweat. She discovered the fabric was about a quarter of an inch thick, which would explain why this was taking so long. Though her arms ached and her muscles became dreadfully tired, she pressed on. If she did not finish this tonight, she’d have to delay her plans by a whole day. That was something she could not risk. The Vorosi were a nomadic tribe. They could move any day, and that would destroy any possible chance of her escape.

Ava worked for hours, finally achieving her goal. She peered through a two-inch wide hole and looked out into the night. The hole was close to the ground, which was good because tall stalks of grass rose to partially conceal it. With this, she could see clearly the flames of the balefire several tents away. Tomorrow night, she would watch as the Vorosi gathered in the center of their camp. Then, when she was sure they were all occupied, she would turn the stone on the fabric that bound her wrist. She would sneak out of this tent unseen and run into the woods. She would not stop running until she found the kings road. She would undoubtedly find someone on the road who would take her home.

But, what if she didn’t? The question sliced through Ava’s mind releasing waves of doubt to gush in its wake. It didn’t matter. Ava shook herself. If she had to spend every night between here and Cincia hiding in the woods alone it would still be better than this, better than spending every night tied up in this tent waiting for them to do something horrible to her. She would make it home; even if she had to walk the entire way on her own two feet. This was what she promised herself as she returned the crate to its original position.

She checked to make sure the hole was well hidden and then curled up on the ground between the sacks and crates. That night she dreamed she was walking alone on a wide, dark road. It was night, and the stars shown radiantly overhead, lighting her way. She didn’t know where she was going; but the compulsion to keep walking drove her onward relentlessly. Every time she took a step a star fell from the sky. Eventually there were no stars left and no light to guide her feet. The road disappeared beneath her and she floated, walking in empty darkness surrounded by black.