The day ended poorly for me. I was bruised, my clothes were torn, and I had a blackened eye. I could barely walk without a fresh stab of pain from the many welts across my back. But the worst of it all was that I wasted five whole bits. That was at least a decent meal at the Inn. But even as I walked to the town whore house, each step causing me new pain, I didn't feel despair. I found it at last. My dream was probably impossible. I didn't know how I would achieve it. But it was there; it had taken root within me, and only death could part me from it.
At least they had the decency to lay my unconscious body by the fire.
‘
Truly, they are the arbiters of kindness.’
I woke in the dead of night in pain, but pain and I were good friends. My mind, however, was as clear as day. I now knew what I wanted.
Today was the only day of the week that I had no work. By Anier’s command, none shall work on the eighth day.
After passing the small wooden fence, I saw Dim standing at the entrance. Dim had three primary virtues: he was big, strong, and listened to his mother. I wasn't sure if stupidity could be a virtue yet. But his simple mind did not allow him to hold grudges or think poorly of others.
“Oh no, that looks bad, go see ma’, she’ll take care of you,” Dim said.
“Thanks, Dim. How’s everythin’ with the house?” I asked.
He shrugged, “Not bad, had a rowdy gent’ yesterday. But ma’ told me to toss ‘em. He didn't want no trouble after that.”
The last day of the week was so sacred, not even whores worked. With a nod, I walked past Dim and entered the house. It was the same as ever. Ten women both lived and worked there. The main room was designed for entertaining, with chairs and tables everywhere. Clients could sit and talk with their choice of woman for the night. Then they would go upstairs, and not ten minutes later, the man retired and the whore searched for another client.
There was even a small bar that served strong liquor, and the house always smelled like a mixture of musk, alcohol, and strong perfume. I thought once, if I were truly desperate, I could work there. However, once Dim, Sim, and I decided to eavesdrop on one of the clients, the idea died in its infancy.
It was a mistake. Love from stories did not match the real thing; it was no different than animals rutting in the forest. I still remember spending several minutes listening to the rutting and grunting from a man, accented by what I thought was supposed to be moans of pleasure from the whore. Finally, the man grunted a bit louder than usual, and just like that it was over, and coin was exchanged, with the whore leaving to find another client.
The entire act was disgusting, no different than dogs or cats. To think men paid hard-earned coins for it was insanity. What pleasure could there be in such a repulsive act?
Finally, Dim’s mother, Helan, noticed me. She was a heavy-set woman with most of the weight adorning her chest and hips. She had the same brownish-blonde hair as her son. At least she didn't have her usual dress on, instead opting for a simple brown dress and leather slippers. The amount of cleavage she usually had on offer was impressive and distracting.
The moment she saw me, sympathy swelled in her eyes. “Another bad one I see,” Helan said as I approached the bar.
I shrugged, “It's just pain.”
She frowned. Helan was kind; as a whore she was judged as much as I was, if not more. But this whore house was too profitable for the village.
“You’re too young to be so callous to pain.” She nodded, "Come. I’ll get the cream,”
A parent punishing an unruly child was expected behavior, and it would not be taken well if anyone interfered. I stopped begging for help long ago. None would come, especially from Anier.
Helan brought me up to a room that thankfully didn't smell like day-old sex. After helping me remove my canvas shirt, she gasped as she saw my back.
“So many,” She whispered in horror.
I shrugged, “Only thirty-three.” I was mildly impressed with myself.
“It's cruel, not even thieves get this many,” She said, her voice sounding angry. But alas, there was nothing she could do for me beyond the kindness of numbing cream. By law, I was my parents’ property. So long as I wasn't killed or permanently maimed, the law would do nothing.
“Lie down,”
I did as instructed, and a moan of pleasure came out of my mouth as the cream was rubbed onto the welts. Slowly, the constant stinging decreased to a low ache.
“You’ll be of marriageable age soon. I know my boy isn’t the brightest, but I think he would be a good husband.”
I shook my head, “Dim’s nice enough, but I don't want a husband.”
“You don't want to work here, do you?”
“No, but I know what I want now,” I said with a smile.
“Really. What’s that?” she asked.
“It's a secret.” In truth, becoming a Magus was no different than the idiot boys wishing to become great heroes, and I didn't want to look like a fool by telling her. Where could I learn? Who would teach a random peasant bastard? These were my biggest questions.
“When the time comes, you might not have a choice, Edith,” Helan said. I had to marry whoever my mother chose, but that wouldn't happen. I'd either be long gone or dead before then. There would be no compromise.
I smiled, “There’s always a choice; most people are just too scared to make ‘em.”
Helan sighed, “I don't know what you’re thinkin’, Edith, but I'll help you if I can,”
I turned to her, smiled, and nodded. At that moment, I decided to spare her and every whore in this village.
“Yennah’s prepping our morning meal, care to join us?” I smiled.
I would usually deny kindness; taking something I didn't work for would hurt my pride. But magic required sacrifice.
With a nod from me, Helan beamed, “Give the cream a few minutes to work and join us in the kitchen.”
As I rested on the thankfully clean bed, I truly began to think about everything I knew about Magi. They usually worked for the nobles or the very wealthy. I was also reasonably sure that there was a school for Magi. From all the stories, most Magi take on a single apprentice.
So, I would need to find one and somehow convince them to take me as their apprentice. That meant I needed to head to the capital of the barony, which was weeks away by carriage. There was a good chance one worked for the Baron. How I would get in contact with said magus, however, was another complicated matter. I probably had a better chance of becoming an empress. Hell, getting past the keep wall was probably impossible for me.
“It’s all gonna end in failure, isn't it?” I asked the wall. I smiled, but somehow the prospect of failure didn't dampen my desire to become a magus.
At the very least, I needed to get to the capital. There were several ways, but the easiest and safest was definitely just paying for space on a trading caravan.
First, I need coin. Working for Grelleth wasn't enough since my mother took it all. I believed Helan would give me some work on the side, so at least I could save some extra coin.
It was best not to travel as a girl. Fortunately, I was still as flat as a board, and in my cheap canvas clothing, I looked like a boy. I needed proper clothes and a decent cloak, though. I couldn't let any of the guards or people in the village see me. They would just drag me back.
Next was supporting myself in the capital. Work wasn't easy to come by for one so young. So, I needed skills, letters, and numbers at least. Sim, I knew, was learning. Helan, who felt pity for me, would certainly offer help. I had options. All this had to be done in secret. Some proper clothes too, good enough that I didn't look like a beggar, but not good enough to be worth robbing.
My mother and Bren wanted me to be broken and docile, and that’s what I would give them; all the while, I would add to my stash. When I had had enough, I would disappear. Before I could put my master plan into motion, I needed information.
~
Three days had passed; my back was largely healed, and even my siblings didn't feel like tormenting me as much as usual. Perhaps the lashing was so brutal that they were content for a while. It wouldn't last, but it was nice to only deal with mild insults.
My work with Grelleth was over. She even gave me three bits as a bonus. I wondered if my punishment had gotten around since I was graced with a few pitying glances. I sneered internally; it wouldn't save them from my wrath. In the folds of my canvas shirt were ten bits. Information, it seemed, wasn't cheap, but I was learning how to spot the ones who would be willing to trade and not ask too many questions.
Tinkers and single-traveling merchants were the most open with information. And after standing around for an hour near the edge of town, I spotted one. A middle-aged man rolled into the village with a cart loaded with half-rotted vegetables. I smiled. The desperate ones were always quick to take coin.
I waited until he set up shop, and after a few minutes, seeing that no one wanted his rotten garbage, I made my move.
At my approach, he smiled, no doubt thinking I was stupid enough to buy his goods. The brown-haired man grinned, showing rotted teeth, and said, “Good day, my boy. Fancy, a few carrots or maybe some hearty potatoes are more to your taste.”
I reached into my shirt and pulled out a bit, then flipped it to him. Like a striking lizard, the man snatched it out of the air, “Two more if you answer my questions,”
He licked his cracked lips and nodded vigorously, “You ever been to the Capitol?”
He nodded vigorously, “Aye, Aye, was born there,”
“What kind of work could I get if I went there?” I gestured to myself.
“Lots dependin’ on how hard you want to work. Could shovel shit, could be a runner. There’s always coin if you know where to look.”
I chuckled. That last one was bait. I took out four bits and showed them to him, “Know anyone?”
“There’s an eatery, only a month old. Darry’s ditch, he might hire yuh,” I squinted, putting two of the coins back.
“A-A-And there's Jess’s herbs, Mother’s milk, and Derr’s pottage. If’n you are good with numbers, good chance they’ll hire yuh,” I nodded. It didn't seem he was holding out anymore.
The questions went on for a few more minutes before he ran out of ideas for me.
“We didn't speak, right?” I asked.
“I’ve never met ye,” he said.
I tossed him the four bits and grabbed a carrot that only looked a quarter-rotted. The information was expensive but worth it. In three days, I managed to learn that there was an entrance fee to pass the wall to the city. Not much, just a couple of bits. More if I were a merchant. The only way to get to the central keep where the baron lived was through goods and services. Food was often delivered to the castle. A castle had maids and servants, but getting hired as a servant wasn't easy. You needed connections, and sometimes you needed coin just to get through the door.
In eight months, I would reach my fourteenth year, which was the age at which youths were expected to start searching for a spouse. I would struggle and scrape to earn as much coin as possible. When I turned fourteen, I would escape with the first trading caravan that came to the village.
It wasn’t the best plan, but it was the best I could come up with.