He stared at her. “What?”
“I wish to go ashore.”
“You cannot. There could be danger. We will continue northward for three more hours, then we will go ashore and camp for the night.”
“You are a coward then.”
He shook his head at her. “Were you truly a boy, you would surely be dead by now. You forget again that you are alive only because I decided to intervene.”
She winced. He didn’t know whether it was from pain in her back or from the reminder of what she owed him.
She looked at him straight on and said, “I must relieve myself.”
He said matter-of-factly, “You have seen the men relieve themselves. It is more difficult for you, a female, but nonetheless, you must do it. I will stand in front of you to give you some privacy. Do you wish to do it now?”
She nodded.
Once she was finished, he helped her sit down beside him. “That wasn’t so very bad, was it?”
“It was bad,” she said, not looking at him. “It’s always been bad. At first I couldn’t bear it, it was more humiliation than I thought one could endure. Then I realized that all regarded it with indifference, save for those who enjoyed shaming the slaves. They enjoyed watching closely and laughing. When I became a boy it was all the more difficult.” She sighed, then grinned. “I became quite good at aping the boys. I would turn my back, position my arms just so, and all would think it a boy relieving himself. It was an act, of course, to lull any suspicions.”
“How long were you a female before you changed to a boy’s garb?”
“Not long, it was too dangerous. I didn’t wish to be ravished. Being a boy was safer.”
“Not in Kiev and to the south,” he said.
“Then I was lucky not to be in the south,” she said, and her voice was cool and he wondered if she were lying. He couldn’t tell.
He said, “If ever I intend to humiliate you, it will not be in that fashion. I gave you what privacy I could. I could do no more for you.”
“I know.”
“How do you feel?”
She looked surprised, then said, “Much better.”
She squared her skinny shoulders, winced, and let them relax again. “Perhaps not all that ready to kill your enemies,” he said.
“No, not quite.”
She was different, from her red hair and white flesh to the natural arrogance in her that should have been beaten out of her a long time ago. “How old are you?”
“I am eighteen.”
“How old is Taby?”
“He is nearly six now.”
“How long were both of you slaves?”
“Nearly two years—nay, I forget. It isn’t important. There is no reason for you to know, no reason for you to be interested.”
“It matters not that you told me. Had it been longer than two years, you would probably be dead, at least Taby would. It is amazing that you managed to keep him alive for two years. He was naught but a baby. Where do you come from?”
She shook her head and said, “I am from a place much like the place you come from. It is a place I will return to, in my own time, when I am ready to return. And I meant it, Viking, I want to buy the three of us from you.” She drew a deep breath. “I will pay you for the clothes, I will pay you for what you paid for Taby, for—”
He wanted to cuff her. Instead he grabbed her arm and jerked her around to face him. “My name is Merrik. You will use it. You will also learn to mind that tongue of yours. No wonder Thrasco beat you. How many other masters have flayed the hide off you for your insolence?”
