Tavaar - 16th Edition

We've met Bolar. If I had known at this time how important Bolar was to become I might have quit writing about Tavaar entirely. It is through Bolar we get the first inklings of how things work in The Great Sea. Hawnka will be the final instructor, but that happens in the books to be published. Near the end of the entire series. Hawnka will answer most of our questions, but it is Bolar who begins the education.

Today we complete Tavaar's ordeal of an attempted rape. The passage was designed to give closure and healing.

Formatting: Text notes; Text narrative; Blog notes.

Tavaar took her leave of Bolar and hurried home. As she went, she began to feel down, even ill, though it was not from the wine. It was as if her conscience were bothering her, but she had done no wrong. She removed her boots outside and entered the house quietly. She didn’t want to see anyone. She hurried up the stairs and rushed into her room. She closed the door, holding it with her hands, as though fearful it would open of its own accord. A feeling of shame began to engulf her and she rested her forehead on the door and wept. She straightened and tried to shake the feeling off. Why was she feeling like this? She hadn’t done anything. It was Mehngen. She unbuckled her belt and let her weapons and gear fall to the floor. She started for the bed, but as she passed her mirror she stopped.

She had a nice mirror. It was expensive. Her father had given it to her nearly ten years ago, and it was still in good condition. Not like the cheap ones, which clouded, or had the reflective backing peel off. This was an excellent mirror, and she had spent a lot of time primping in front of it. She examined her reflection, unhappy with what she saw. Her hair was mussed. Her eyes were already reddening. There was an unfortunate blemish on the left breast of her tunic. Mehngen had not had clean hands. With a surge of emotion she found she suddenly hated her tunic. She pulled it off and tossed it toward the door as though it were somehow responsible for what she was feeling. But what was she feeling?

Dirty. She felt in need of a bath to wash away what had happened. She considered it, but the bath was downstairs, and she didn’t want to risk being seen. She wanted to scream, but dared not draw attention, so she fell face down on her bed, feeling the soft down mattress and pillow fold around her. She pulled her pillow to her breast tightly as she cried herself to sleep.

She woke just before the door opened, opening her eyes and watching as Sashwa entered the room. She was dressed in a tan tunic with matching britches. She appeared quite cheerful. Seeing Tavaar half naked upon her bed she shut the door.

“There you are! What are you doing? Taking a nap? Why did you take off you tunic?”

She noticed Tavaar’s silk tunic on the floor and picked it up.

She tossed the garment to Tavaar. “Here. Get dressed,” she said.

Tavaar acted quickly. She sat up, took the tunic and threw it vengefully at the door.

“Get that away from me!”

Sashwa looked confused and concerned. “Isn’t that one of your favorites?” she asked.

“No. I hate it!”

Sashwa looked at the tunic and then at Tavaar. “Darling, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Hey, don’t close me out. Tell me what happened. I’ll make it better again. You know I will.”

Tavaar hesitated. She longed to pour it all out for her friend, but for some reason the feelings of dirt and shame clung to her and kept her silent. She looked to Sashwa, her eyes pleading for help. Sashwa recognized the need instantly and rushed to her, gathering her in her arms and rocking her gently back and forth. Tavaar cried, but only a short while. Sashwa’s comforting arms gave her peace. Confident again, she revealed what had happened. Sashwa was incensed. She was so angry Tavaar complained about how tightly she was being held.

“I’ll kill him,” said Sashwa. “I’ll cut off his head! I’ll spill his blood. I’ll cut that filthy piece of flesh off him and feed it to the dogs. How dare he presume to hurt you. Where is he? I’m going to go kill him.”

She rose from the bed, but Tavaar called to her.

“You need not spill his blood, Sashwa. I’ve already done that.”

“I can still dismember him.”

“I daresay you can. However, I have already explained to him that if he tries this with anyone ever again, he will live out his days as a gelding.”

“Let’s geld him anyway. He deserves it.”

“He does. It was tempting to do. But I don’t want to see him again. Ever. He is so disgusting.”

“I know. You say you broke his nose?”

“That’s what Bolar said. He examined him outside and then sent him in to be cleaned up.”

Tavaar laughed, remembering Fiahna. She told Sashwa about Bolar sending her to help wash Mehngen’s face. They both laughed as Tavaar told how she and Bolar heard Mehngen’s screams.

“Bolar was in no hurry. He knew what he was doing,” said Tavaar.

“Dear Fiahna,” said Sashwa. “I can just see her now, dabbing a damp cloth on Mehngen’s nose. She is so eager about healing people, she would actually make his pain worse.”

“And there would be no sympathy for his cries, either,” said Tavaar.

“Oh, no. Not with practical minded Fiahna. ‘Quit crying and sit still. I can’t heal you if you’re crying and fighting.’”

They both laughed.

“Ah, dear Fiahna,” said Tavaar.

“We need to take her to the inn,” suggested Sashwa. “As a reward for her marvelous assistance.”

“We should.”

“Well, get dressed then, and let’s go.”

Sashwa bent down and picked up Tavaar’s tunic.

“Not that! I don’t ever want to see that again.”

Sashwa considered for a moment. Then she held the garment between her finger and thumb as though it were nasty to the touch.

“You’re right. He had his hands all over this, didn’t her? It’s soiled beyond repair.”

“Not all over it, but enough.”

“What do you want me to do with it?”

Tavaar’s eyes shifted to the small fireplace which made up the wall between her and Sashwa’s bedchambers. It was an extension of the fireplace below. Not many houses had full hearths on upper floors. Most used little round stoves which burned wood to heat. But Mines was wealthy, and Presh and Oflahrmar were wealthy in Mines. They had built a very nice house for themselves and their progeny, of which Tavaar and Sashwa were part.

“Burn it,” she said, pointing.

Sashwa smiled and went to the hearth. Tavaar watched with satisfaction as a small fire was lit and a single log began to burn. Sashwa turned to her, holding up the tunic.

“Do you want the honors?”

“No. You do it. I don’t want to touch it.”

Without hesitation, Sashwa turned and tossed the tunic into the flames. At once it began to burn and the two watched in fascination as it shriveled and disappeared.22 Then Sashwa got to her feet and headed for Tavaar’s wardrobe.

“You still need to get dressed,” she said.

“Bolar wanted me to stay in bed.”

“For low long?

“He didn’t say.”

“Well, did he say you had to be naked?”

“I’m not naked.”

“Close enough, Darling. You may like to be showy, but do I need to look at you?”

“You love it,” teased Tavaar.

“Yeah, yeah. You’re beautiful, all right. So he wanted you to rest? How long did you sleep?”

“I don’t know. What time is it?”

“Somewhere between eight and nine turns.”

“I guess I must have slept for or five turns then.”

“That’s a good while. I think Bolar will be happy with that. Let’s go to the inn. I’ll buy.”

“That is a treat then.”

“Oh, shut up! Come and get dressed.”

Sashwa was reaching for another of Tavaar’s fancy tunics. Tavaar saw and rushed to the wardrobe, pulling out a plan, brown one made of cotton. Sashwa made a face.”

“You’re not planning on wearing that, are you?”

“What’s wrong with it? It covers.”

“It certain does. We’re going to the inn, Darling, not out on a week long hunt. You’ve got nice breasts. Show them off.”

“I thought you didn’t like looking at them,” mocked Tavaar.

“I don’t. But we’re going to the inn, Darling. The males would much prefer to see you in this instead of that.”

“That’s what this is all about then, isn’t it?” Tavaar snapped. “I’m just bait to bring in another catch of the night? Well, maybe I don’t want to be looked at anymore. Maybe I just want to be plain and unnoticed.” She plopped on her bed.

“No, Darling. Don’t be like that.”

“Like what?” grumped Tavaar.

Sashwa sat beside her and draped an arm over Tavaar’s shoulders. “Don’t let the pile of ox filth take away your fun. Yes, he attacked you and had those filthy paws on you. But he didn’t do it because you are beautiful, or dressed beautiful, or even acted beautiful. You are all of those things, Darling, and more. I think you’re wonderfully beautiful. If I were a male, I’d want you to take me in your arms. But that isn’t why he did it.”

“They why did he?”

“Because he’s ox filth. He’s worse than an old hog. He doesn’t get dung pile duty because no one can tell him from the crap. Think! Have any of the real males behaved like that?”23

“No. Well, some need a firm hand.”

Sashwa leaned and whispered. “It isn’t their hands that need firming, Darling.”

They giggled. Sashwa continued. “But even they obey. No, Darling. You’re beautiful. Don’t hide it because some loathsome pile of dung doesn’t know how to behave. You handled him well. Besides, after this morning I doubt you’ll ever have to worry about it.”

“Why?”

Sashwa gave her a look. “Do you really think this is going to stay secret? Within a day or two, everyone is going to know.”

“How?” cried Tavaar. “You’re not going to tell, Sashwa, are you?”

“No, Darling. I am not. But I don’t have to. Bolar wasn’t fooled by your ploy, and I doubt anyone else will be either. No one will likely speak openly about it, but word is going to get around.”

“Maybe we should stay home then.”

“No, Darling! No! No one is going to blame you for anything. They’re going to admire you all the more.”

“Why?”

Sashwa leaned close and spoke in an undertone. “Because you took it upon yourself to clean up a big pile of dung that was offensive to everyone. Now they don’t have to do it. Now, put on the nice tunic and let’s go.”

“And if I refuse?”

“We’ll find something else to do.”

Too late, Tavaar realized the meaning of Sashwa’s words. Suddenly, Sashwa’s hands were at her ribs and her fingers were working feverishly. Tavaar screamed and fell back. Without even a tunic between her skin and Sashwa’s fingers, it was worse. She cried out for mercy and Sashwa stopped. Tavaar looked up at her conqueror.

“Okay. I’ll go.”

“And?”

“I’ll wear the silk.”

“Good girl. I know what’s best for you. Don’t you worry, Darling. I’ll take care of you.”

“Sashwa?”

“What?’

“I love you. You’re my best friend.”

Sashwa looked down at her with a happy smile. Then she bent and kissed her.

“I love you, too, Darling.”

22 I suppose there are different ways of viewing what Tavaar and Sashwa did with the tunic. My thinking is this: Tavaar’s real damage was emotional, and so her healing had to be emotional. She had successfully berated Mehngen in his own mind. She had broken his body. She had taken control away from him. Mehngen was defeated. But the memory remained. Destroying the tunic was an emotional act. Destroying it with Sashwa increased the satisfaction, for she had acceptance as well as rejection. Whatever she was feeling, she appeared to have transferred it to the tunic. Burning the tunic gave her the strength to go on. That may not have worked for someone else.

23 It is doubtful anyone other than Sashwa could have succeeded in this conversation with Tavaar. Perhaps Bolar, but definitely Sashwa.