Quoted By:
“I am not a child with no concept of value,” you tell Vaaro, then take a deep breath. You will not be goaded by his lecturing. “I am only seeking to discuss your plans. To strategize.”
“You have not been to market. There is no strategy. Slaves go up on the block. Bidders bid. Slaves are sold. Sellers profit. A small cut goes to market. All prosper,” Vaaro lists.
“And what if true values are being missed?” you suggest. “You have said we would be stripped and judged on that alone. Do you still see no other value in me?”
“<span class="mu-i">You</span> have other value. This is so,” Vaaro agrees.
“I am pleased you see it. I am sure you would also agree that you would not gain the value you want of me at this… market,” you continue.
“And what do you think I want from you?” he asks in return. The question wrongfoots you. It is that same nameless dance you’ve been in with him for days now.
“Much and more,” you evasively answer.
He rolls his eyes. “You are beginning to bore me.”
You ignore him and continue. “I am well-read. I enjoy hawking and riding. I am skilled in needlework. And I understand etiquette. I understand these are talents you may find difficult to appreciate,” you add.
“Not at all,” he smiles, though you find the expression to be mocking.
“Further, I am not the only skilled lady here. I can personally attest to Lady Ellyn’s worth. She is my cousin,” you tell him.
“Which?” Vaaro asks, peering down at the others huddled below. When you point her out, he laughs. “<span class="mu-i">That</span> one? She is your blood?”
“I hardly think it is amusing,” you frown.
“You wouldn’t,” he agrees. “It’s not in you. You’re wound tighter than Noren’s crossbow. Her, though. She was hungry for my men’s favor the moment we cast off.”
“She was not <span class="mu-i">hungry</span> for your men,” you argue, aghast knowing Vaaro may very well be at least half right.
“Then she was clever about it,” he shrugs. “Might make her more useful than you, really. All the same skills as you said. Just younger and willing to please.”
You could slap him. You really could. “<span class="mu-i">Younger?</span>”
He looks you over. “She could pass for a maid if she could keep her skirts on. I’ll grant you are more desirable, but you are… how does one say this? It is no insult. Your kind worship a mother goddess, no?”
“I am <span class="mu-i">not</span> a mother, thank you,” you sharply tell him.
“No? Truly? I had thought…” he trails off and just goes back to observing the city. You are beginning to think this was not another of his cruel japes and are stung all the more for it.
