Light flowery, faded curtains covered glass windows. They were closed however, prohibiting Tara from seeing into the house. Voices trailed through the night air, and the front door of the house opened.
She moved nimbly through the natural camouflage until she could see inside the house.
“It will go well for you to notify us immediately if you notice anyone, it will.” The loud grumbling voice broke the night air.
While the thick Gothman accent had been described to Tara before, it still sounded strange hearing it for the first time.
“Of course, I’ll call immediately if there be any disturbances, to be sure. I daresay you’re too kind to protect an old lady, you are.”
Tara could see two large men appear out of the shadows as they moved toward motorcycles. A petite woman stood on the porch of the house and wrapped a knit shawl tightly around her shoulders.
“Tell his Lordship that I’ll be sure to have a warm pie to his house in time for lunch, I will. I look forward to seeing his mama. Is she well?”
The two men grunted in answer and took off down a gravel road, raising dust into the night air.
Tara studied the woman who stood on the porch and watched the Gothman warriors until the sound of their motorcycles was barely audible.
The woman continued to stand there, looking up into the sky, apparently surveying the first of the stars as twilight faded to darkness.
She tightened her grip on the shawl and finally turned toward the trees. “You can come out now, you can. I’m a simple woman and I’m no threat to you, that’s for certain. I know the Runners, and you didn’t come to my house by accident, so come out and allow me to be hospitable, yes.”
Tara didn’t move.
Patha had talked about the Gothman woman, Reena, many times. This lady definitely fit the description. She was a small woman, her features petite but in nice proportion. Dark gray hair wrapped around her head in a wide bun. Her skin wasn’t wrinkled although laugh lines could be seen next to her eyes. The lone light hanging from the porch ceiling accented the woman’s features with graceful shadows.
Tara needed to be cautious, though. She could defend herself if this woman did try to call the Gothman back, but she couldn’t tell if there were more in the house. Even with a thorough scan of the area, the Gothman could have any number of places to hide their motorcycles.
The old woman must have read her mind. “Now, I know you’re there, Runner. I can smell your leather, I can. I know you’re armed, and I daresay I don’t have a gun. I don’t feel like going back into my house, wondering who be outside watching me, no. That much is certain. So, come out now!” The old lady’s voice had become authoritative.
She had thought her Runner attire would aid in hiding her, but the old lady’s comments made her rethink that decision. She needed to blend in. But apparently with her dress, anyone in Nuworld could recognize her instantly. Tara glanced down at her clothing. Her black leather boots laced to her knees and thin black gloves fit like a second skin, adding to the practicality of clothes required for the lifestyle of a Runner. The thick leather protected her skin in battle. The black Runner material, known throughout Nuworld as being virtually bulletproof, was woven with a thread made from crushed glass.
Tara shrugged. Ridding herself of her Runner clothing would be helpful. Maybe the old lady could prove useful.
She moved out from behind the rock and walked up to the porch. She didn’t watch the woman, but instead focused beyond her through the open door, looking for movement. She needed to reassure herself that she wasn’t walking into a trap. She ascended the porch stairs as silent as a cat and faced the old woman.
“Well now, you are a Runner, you are. The black leather does hide you well in the shadows, doesn’t it? Come on in. I promise I’m quite alone, I am. So tell me your stories. How do you know of me?” The old woman spoke without taking a single breath even as she turned and walked back in to her home.
Tara followed her.
Reena stepped to the side, allowing Tara to view the interior before she shut the door behind them and moved to a kitchen that was merely a wall along the side of a small living room. She put a tall thin pot onto the stove and lit a match to start the fire underneath it. A pie was produced out of an off-white icebox and the old woman pulled a plate out of the freestanding cupboard. Reena placed a large slice of the pie on it.
“It’s apple. I reckon I’ll make another one in the morning for the Lord’s family, I will. It helps to show my loyalty, you know. Lord Darius knows I’ve entertained Runners before, but I like to keep peace in the family, so to speak.” She placed her hand over the pot, then reached for a rag hanging on the icebox and removed the container from the stove. “Do you like your coffee hot?”
“That’ll be fine. Thank you.” Tara couldn’t believe it. The woman had coffee. That was a coveted treat. The plants making the rare drink didn’t grow in their nation and could only be obtained through the right connections. How did a Gothman woman have such connections?
Reena picked up a wooden knitting needle and gathered together a project she’d obviously been working on for some time. It appeared to be a sweater, and Tara wondered at the patience required to take on such a task.
Crow’s feet appeared next to the old lady’s eyes as she smiled, then used one of the knitting needles to point to a lumpy couch with a multicolored quilt thrown over the back of it. “Sit. I’ll be curious to see how you plan on eating that pie with your Runner headscarf wrapped around your face, and I’ll be mighty offended if you refuse my food, I will. My pies are known throughout Gothman and if you traveled through the trees with the usual Gothman hospitality to greet you, I daresay you should be hungry, yes.”
Tara unwrapped the black scarf from her face as she stroked her finger across the red circle that surrounded the embroidered red drop of blood—the symbol of the Blood Circle Clan, to which she proudly belonged—and she sighed. The symbol meant so much to her, she only hoped she was worthy of all that it entailed. Very carefully she set the scarf on the couch next to her.
She placed the mug of coffee on the wooden table in front of the couch and eagerly tasted the sweet dessert. It was as good as promised and she quickly took bite after bite.
“I’m thinking if the Gothman guards knew they were chasing such a beautiful wench as you, they’d have fought a bit harder to capture you, they would.”
The woman’s laugh tempted the corners of Tara’s mouth.
If a person could be judged by their home, then Reena was a warm, caring person with patience and a solid foundation in her culture. The small cabin offered several different aromas that Tara easily distinguished.
The wooden walls and floors offered the spicy scent of the forest. The pungent smell of brewed coffee mixed with the sweet bouquet of baked apples. Other aromas floated through the air as well, not as easily defined—the pungent tang of spices and herbs used either for cooking or medicinal purposes, and a sterile smell, possibly soap used for laundry or bathing lingered in the air.
Tara also noticed a variety of handcrafted items in addition to the faded patchwork quilt on the sofa: a knitted afghan hung over the back of a rocker that waved back and forth as Reena gently rocked, and several embroidered wall hangings framed the walls. These items shared a bit of the woman sitting across from her, smiling peacefully and glancing at her occasionally with gentle blue eyes.
* * * * *
Reena tried hard not to stare at the beautiful young woman. Her light brown hair fell gracefully past her shoulders and was as supple and shiny as silk. Her complexion was fair although she had a red tint much as a person would from the sun. Reena realized it probably came from riding without a headscarf. Her skin was smooth, at least what Reena could see of it, with no scars or marks of battle on the young face. A novelty among Runners. The girl’s sapphire eyes took in everything around her, conveying intelligence and a bit too much wisdom for her age.
“My goodness, you’re barely a woman, and so beautiful. The men of these parts won’t take kindly to knowing a looker like you avoided them so skillfully, I’m thinking. Their women don’t learn the skills you’ve learned, they don’t.”
“So I’ve heard.”
“Well now, what’s your name and whose stories bring you here?”
“I’m Tara of the Blood Circle Clan.”
“Ah, Patha’s stories sent you here, they have.” Reena nodded and started to rock a bit faster in her chair.
She’s finally come to me.
So overjoyed was Reena to have the young woman sitting in her home, her heart forgot to beat for a second. “I’m Reena and you may call me that. Now, are you Patha’s daughter?”
“I gained that honor at the age of four, but not by birth.” Tara chewed as she spoke. “I’m at the
Age of Searching
and have heard the stories about you. Those stories also told me that Gothman don’t like women.”
Reena noticed her laugh interrupted Tara as the youngster stopped to look up from her pie with inquisitive eyes. It was hard not to get up and move closer to this young Runner.
“Gothman like ladies just fine,” she said, still laughing. “They like them in the kitchen and in the bedroom. An unclaimed woman such as you will be plenty liked in this world, I fear.”
The woman stopped laughing. “So, Tara of the Blood Circle Clan and daughter of the leader of all Runners, I would think you’ve come here with your head full of stories of Gothman, you have. I know a Runner doesn’t enter a land aimlessly without a plan, so let’s hear it.”
“I—”
“You must be an excellent warrior, I would think,” Reena continued on, “to get past the guards. But if you display your abilities you’ll be detected instantly, to be sure. Gothman women don’t fight, that is true. You’re young and unclaimed, yes. I daresay your destiny here is to be raped continually until you’re claimed, it will.”
“I’m no stranger to being attacked, and I don’t fear Gothman men.” Tara gestured with her fork. “I came here to see if you had clothing that will help me mingle among the Gothman and learn their ways.”
“I’m sure your skills are outstanding, but ten men against one woman aren’t good odds…even if that woman is a Runner, no.”
“I thought—” Tara began.
Reena didn’t hear her. “I might be able to find some clothes that will fit you, yes. You’re small, like me you are.” Reena chuckled again.
“Would you be willing—” Tara’s rush of words were cut off once more.
“I daresay in my youth I had much of your beauty. But the more you change to fit in, the more trouble you’ll bring on yourself, that much is true.”
“So you’ll help me?” Tara’s expression brightened.
Reena could see her warning had been ignored, but she answered just the same. “Yes.” Reena tried to hide the excitement in her voice. Patha had sent Tara to her; she just knew it. There was no way she could let this young woman out of her home without getting to know her first. “I’ve known a Runner or two in my day, I have. You want to know the Gothman, and if I don’t help you I’m sure you’ll resort to a backup plan, you will. You’ll stay the night here, though. I’m sure Lord Darius’ guards will be keeping an eye on the woods for a Runner through the rest of the night, they will.”
* * * * *
Tara watched the old lady get up from her rocking chair and open a door leading to a bedroom. Tara didn’t move, but the woman continued to talk to her. From what Patha had taught her of Gothman society, Tara wondered why the woman didn’t have a man around.
“I’m sure I’ve an extra nightgown for you, I do. We need to get you out of those clothes immediately, yes. I’ve many visitors and to be certain we’ll have to come up with a story to explain your presence, we will. The women around here use me for a midwife and the Gothman like to reproduce. I stay quite busy, that much is sure.” Reena laughed again as she retreated down a hall and into a dark room, her voice trailing off as she moved.
“Let’s see.” She returned a minute later holding up a long paisley nightgown with white ruffles around the collar. “This is quite becoming, and I do think it might fit, it will. I’m thinking I’ll have to wash some clothes for you to wear during the day. Not to worry, I’ll provide you with a modest wardrobe, yes. Go change into this. We’ll figure out the rest in the morning. Tomorrow is a new day, you know. Now move along, get going.”
Tara took the feminine nightgown to the bathroom and slowly disrobed. She felt ritualistic as she shed the black leather pants and jacket of her Runner heritage. She told herself, as she discarded her sleeveless black undershirt, that along with her clothes she also needed to shed the actions of the Runner. From this point forward she would be a Gothman woman, outwardly void of any rights, passive and submissive. Somehow she would do her best to be subservient and domestic.
Oh boy! Talk about choosing a foreign lifestyle!
Her thoughts drifted back to her first encounter with the Gothman in the forest.
She hadn’t planned on making such close contact with the brutal race so soon. Now they knew she was here. It still didn’t make sense to her that she’d managed to get through the soldiers unscathed. Considering the close range when they used the bang sticks, she should be wounded or captured, if not killed.
Tara couldn’t help but wonder if leaving her unharmed hadn’t been the plan all along. When she heard the knock on Reena’s front door, those thoughts quickly flew out of her head.