Polgara the Sorceress
Page 216‘Breathe, Pol!’ mother’s voice cracked. ‘I’m starting to see spots in front of our eyes.’
I explosively let out the breath I’d been unconsciously holding. Ayalla’s performance had even captured me. ‘Gifted, isn’t she?’ I suggested mildly.
Ayalla slowed her dance and concluded with an outrageously sensual strut that challenged every man in the room. The placement of her hands on her dagger hilts as she seemed to be offering herself announced quite clearly what she’d do to anyone foolish enough to accept her offer.
Dear Gods! That looked like fun!
‘Well, Pol?’ mother asked. ‘Do you think you could do that?’
‘It might take some practice,’ I admitted, ‘but not too much. I know exactly what she’s doing. She’s very proud of being a woman, isn’t she?’
‘Oh, yes. That she is.’
‘That’s what her dancing’s all about, and I can definitely handle that part. The steps aren’t really important. It’s her attitude that matters, and I have an attitude of my own. Give me a week, mother, and I’ll be a better dancer than she is.’
‘My, aren’t we confident.’
‘Trust me. Where to now?’
Most of you are probably unfamiliar with the peculiar nature of Nadrak society. Women are property among the Nadraks, but they’re not property in the same sense that horses, boots, or wagons are property. Nadrak women select their owners, and if the chosen one doesn’t live up to her expectations, she can always fall back on her daggers to persuade him to sell her to somebody she likes better – and she gets half of her sale price every time. A Nadrak woman who pays close attention to business can die wealthy, if she wants to.
Yar Nadrak is a mosquito-infested, tar-smeared city built on a marshy point where the surrounding forest has been cleared by setting it on fire – and those are its good points.
There was no reason to avoid it any longer, so when I resumed my own form, I wore the leather clothing mother had provided for me. I strutted through the city gate, noting the polished steel mask of Torak gazing down at me as I did. The presence of that dreadful reminder may have had something to do with what happened next.
‘Don’t be in such a rush, Dearie,’ one of the half-drunk gate-guards said, leering at me suggestively and taking hold of my arm. I decided to establish some ground-rules right then and there. I swept one leg against the sides of his knees and he buckled and fell. Then I dropped on top of him, one of my knees driving into the pit of his stomach. I drew my Ulgo daggers from my belt and crossed their saw-toothed edges against his throat. ‘Any last words?’ I asked him.
‘What are you doing?’ he wheezed.
‘I’m getting ready to cut your throat,’ I explained patiently. ‘You touched me, and nobody touches Polanna and lives. Everybody knows that. Brace yourself. This’ll be over before you know it.’
‘It was an accident!’ he squealed. ‘I didn’t mean to touch you!’
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t realize that. You should have been more careful.’
‘You’ll forgive me then?’
Now what was I going to do? I’m sure everybody around me was terribly impressed, but how was I going to extricate myself without actually killing this idiot?
‘Polanna! Let him go!’ The voice was deep and masculine, and it seemed to be coming from somewhere behind me. It was not behind me, though, and the speaker wasn’t a man. Mother had come to my rescue.
‘But he touched me!’ I protested.
‘It was a mistake. Let him up.’
‘I’ve been insulted. I can’t just let that slide.’
‘We don’t have time for this, Polanna. Nick him once and let it go at that. A little blood will wash away the insult. You don’t have to fill the gutter with it over an accident.’
‘Oh, all right.’ I gave in. I gave my terrified victim a little slice on the point of his chin, got up, and jammed my daggers into their sheaths. Then I marched on into the city. I don’t think anybody even noticed that I appeared to be alone.
‘A little excessive there, Pol’ Mother’s tone was acid.
‘It got out of hand, I guess.’
‘It just popped into my head. I thought it sounded sort of Nadraky.’
‘Nadraky?’
‘Let it pass, mother. Let’s shop around and find me an owner.’
I’d never shopped for an owner before, and it’s not quite the same as shopping for a pair of shoes or a side of beef. We finally settled on a rich fur trader named Gallak. He was prosperous enough to have the necessary contacts and not to live in a hovel. Like most Nadraks, he was a lean man with shrewd eyes. The only real problem we had with him was that he was much more interested in money than he was in the finer things in life – including women. It took a bit more effort to insert some memories into his mind as a result of that peculiarity, but mother and I got around that by playing on his greed. We waved the notion of the profit he’d make when he re-sold me in front of him, and that was all it took.
I slipped into his house late one night while he was sleeping, scattered some of my possessions around and fixed up one of his spare rooms to make it look like my personal bed chamber. Then, just as it was starting to get light, I built a fire in his kitchen and started cooking. When everything was ready, I went to his bedroom and shook him awake. ‘Your breakfast’s ready, Gallak,’ I told him. ‘Get up.’
He stretched and yawned. ‘Good morning, Polanna,’ he said calmly. ‘Did you sleep well?’ He clearly remembered buying me in a back-country tavern about six weeks ago, and in his mind I’d been around long enough for him to get to know me.
He ate his breakfast and complimented me on my cooking – which in his own mind he did every time I cooked for him. Then he checked my collar to make sure it was still locked, told me to have a nice day, and went off to work. So far as he knew, I was now a fixture in his life, and he had no way of knowing that he’d never seen me before that very morning.
‘Now then,’ mother said after he’d left, ‘we want to find a man named Yarblek. He’s going to be fairly important later on, so we’d better get to know him.’