[Shadowed Path 01] - A Woman Worth Ten Coppers by Morgan Howell Page B

o’ the bend?” Her son nodded as he ate. “Roses used ta grow thar. White ones. Ah think they might still.”
    “So?” replied her son.
    “Ah be thinkin’ ya could dig one up ta put by our door.”
    “Why?”
    “It would help me ta recall Mirien. She liked roses.”
    Gan studied his mother’s face. “Aye,” he said after a few moments. “White roses would be good.”
     
    Whatever was going on puzzled Honus and made him reluctant to leave. Nevertheless, he stood up. “Come, Yim,” he said. “We should depart.”
    “Yes, Master.”
    “Wait!” said Mam. She rose from the bench, went over to the chest, and opened it. After rummaging about, she found what she was seeking and pulled out some cloth. It was yellowed and moth-eaten, but it appeared to have been white once. Mam gave the cloth to Yim and asked her to unfold it. It was a dress, embroidered with white roses.
    “Ah’ve been saving this fer…fer…” Mam fought to control her tears. “Ah want ya ta have it.”
    “Shouldn’t you keep it?” asked Yim.
    “Nay, Mirien has na need fer it.”
    “Then I’d be honored by your gift.”
    “Put it on,” said Mam, “an’ wear it as ya leave.”
    “Yes, Mother.” Yim left the room and returned a short while later in the dress. She turned around slowly so Mam could see the wedding gown. Honus and Gan watched silently as Mam’s eyes welled with tears. She walked over to Yim and softly kissed her cheek. “Thank ya,” she whispered. “Thank ya, Karmamatus.”
    Gan’s lips were quivering as he turned to Honus. In a husky voice he said, “Pah! She has na cause ta call her that.”

 
    ELEVEN
    Y IM WALKED gracefully from Mam’s home despite carrying the pack in her arms. Before she was halfway across the muddy field, the dress began to disintegrate. Bits of fabric fell like flower petals thrown after a departing bride. By the time she turned a bend and was out of Mam’s sight, Yim was nearly naked. She stepped behind a tree and emerged wearing her slave’s tunic and cloak. All that remained of the dress was a piece of embroidery, which Yim placed in the pack before shouldering it.
    Yim’s stately air had vanished with the dress. When she resumed walking, she looked sullen and moved as though already weary. Honus started to say something, but thought better of it. Instead, he scrutinized Yim’s face, trying to understand what had transpired. As before, his powers of perception were frustrated. All he could detect was resentment. Thinking upon it, Honus briefly regretted his harshness. Then he grew annoyed that Yim’s mood affected him. He thought it was weakness on his part and a distraction from his obligations. Stop fretting over her. She’s only a slave .
    Honus picked up the pace, but Yim made no effort to keep up. Soon, she lagged far behind, and he was forced to wait for her. When Yim shambled wearily to where he stood, Honus didn’t hide his irritation. “Are you doing this to provoke me?”
    Yim tensed, as if expecting a blow. “No, Master. I’m doing the best I can. I’m not used to this, and I slept ill.”
    “Oh yes, I forgot. You’re a princess .”
    “Just a peddler’s daughter, Master,” said Yim, gazing at her feet, “but I rode in a wagon.”
    “So finally, a bit of truth. What did you think to gain from that silly tale?”
    “I hoped you’d think better of me.”
    “Then you haven’t been around royalty. Princesses incline toward vanity and indolence.”
    “I’m sorry I lied, Master.”
    Honus merely grunted and began walking again. He set a slower pace, and though Yim followed at a distance, she kept up with him. Every time he glanced back at her, she was glaring at him in a way he found annoying. At last, he halted and waited for Yim to catch up. “Will you mope all the way to Bremven?”
    “If you wanted a cheerful companion, you shouldn’t have bought a slave.”
    “I had my reasons.”
    “I obey your commands, yet I seem to vex you.”
    “That’s