As for this particular chambermaid's happy ending - well, I wouldn't be particularly suited to Tarma's life either. I hate camping, bugs, cold, and wet; I don't much care for half-burned food cooked over a campfire, and if I didn't have some form of vision correction, I'd be legally blind. My personal idea of "the way things should be" is that all people be allowed the same opportunity for a life that suits them, period. If that happens to be becoming a mother or being an astronaut, both are important.
And if those same people don't make the most of the opportunities that are given them, that's their own problem.
"Miles out of our way, and still not a sign of anything out of the ordinary," Tarma grumbled, her harsh voice carrying easily above the clopping of their horses' hooves. "For certain no sign of any women in distress. Are you - "
"Absolutely certain," Kethry, the swordswoman's partner, replied firmly, eyes scanning the fields to either side of them. Her calf-length buff-colored robe, mark of the traveling sorceress, was covered in road dust, and she squinted in an attempt to keep that dust out of her eyes. The chilly air was full of the scent of dead leaves and dried grass. "It's not something I can ignore, you know. If my blade Need says there are women in trouble in this direction, there's no chance of doubt: they exist. Surely you know that by now."
It had been two days since they diverted from the main road onto this one, scarcely wider than a cart track. The autumn rains were sure to start before long; cold rains Tarma had hoped to avoid by getting them on the way to their next commission well ahead of time. Since they'd turned off the caravan road, they'd seen little sign of habitation, only rolling, grassy hills and a few scattered patches of forest, all of them brown and sere. The bright colors of fall were not to be found in this region. When frost came, the vegetation here muted into shades more like those of Tarma's worn leathers and Kethry's traveling robes than the carnival-bright colors of the farther north. In short, the trip thus far had been uneventful and deadly dull.
"I swear, sometimes that sword of yours causes more grief than she saves us from," Tanna snorted. "Magicians!"
Kethry smiled; she knew very well that the Shin'a'in swordswoman was only trying to get a rise out of her. The magic blade called "Need" that she carried had saved both their lives more than once. It had the peculiar property of giving weapons' expertise to a mage, or protecting a swordswoman from the worst magics; it could heal injuries and illness in a fraction of normal time-but it could only be used by a female. And, as with all magics, there was a price attached to Need's gifts. Her bearer must divert to aid any woman in need of help, no matter how far out of her intended way the sword pulled her. "You weren't saying that a few weeks ago, when Need and I Healed that lung-wound of yours."
" That was then, this is now,' " her hawk-visaged partner quoted. " The moment is never the same twice.'" A bit of fresher breeze carried the dust of the road away, but chilled both of them a little more.
Kethry shook amber hair out of her eyes, her round face full of amusement "O wise sister-mine, do you have a proverb for everything?"
Tarma chuckled. "Damn near -- Greeneyes, these fields are cultivated -- left to go fallow just this year. I think there's a farm up ahead. Want to chance seeing if the owner'll let us pass the night in his barn? Looks like rain, and I'd rather sleep dry without you having to exhaust magics to keep us that way."
Kethry scanned on ahead of them for possible danger, using magic to smell out magic. "It seems safe enough -- let's chance it. Maybe we can get some due about what Need's calling us to. I don't like the way the air's chilling down, sybarite that I am. I'd rather sleep warm, if we can."
Their ugly, mottled-gray battlemares smelled the presence of other horses, even as the sorceress finished her sentence. Other horses meant food and water at the least, and a dry and warm stable at best. With the year being well into autumn a warm stable was nothing to scorn. They picked up their pace so abruptly that the huge black "wolf" that trotted by the side of the swordswoman's mount was left behind in the dust. He barked a surprised protest and scrambled to catch up.
"That's what you get for daydreaming, lazybones," Tarma laughed, her ice-blue eyes slitted against the rising dust. "Don't just look stupid. Get up here, or we'll leave you!"
The lupine creature -- whose shoulder easily came as high as Tarma's waist -- gathered himself and sprang. He landed on the carrying pad of stuffed leather just behind her saddle; the mare grunted at the impact, but was unsurprised at it. She simply waited for the beast to settle himself and set his retractile claws into the leather pad, then moved into a ground-devouring lope. The sorceress' mount matched her stride for stride.
Strands of raven hair escaped from Tarma's braid and blew into her eyes, but didn't obscure her vision so much that she missed the sudden movement in the bushes at the side of the road, and the small, running figure that set off across the fields. "Looks like the scouts are out," she grinned at her partner. "We've been spotted."
"What? Oh--" Kethry caught sight of the child as he (she?) vaulted over a hedge and vanished. "Wonder what he made of us?"
"We're about to find out." From the other side of the hedge strode a heavy, muscular farmer, as brown as his fields; one who held his scythe with the air of someone who knew what an effective weapon it could be. Both women pulled their horses to a stop and waited for him to reach the road.
"Wayfarer's Peace, landsman," Tarma said when he was near enough to hear her. She held both hands out empty. He eyed her carefully.
"On oath to the Warrior, Shin'a'in?" he replied.
"Oath given." She raised one eyebrow in surprise. "You know Shin'a'in, landsman? We're a long way from the plains."
"I've traveled." He had relaxed visibly when Tarma had given her pledge. "Soldiered a bit. Aye, I know Shin'a'in -- and I know a Sworn One when I see one. Tisn't often you see Shin'a'in, and less often you see Swordsworn oathed to outlander."
"So you recognize blood-oathed, too? You're full of surprises, landsman." Tarma's level gaze held him; her blue eyes had turned cold. "So many I wonder if we are safe with you--"
He raised his left arm; burned onto the back of the wrist was a five-spoked wheel. Kethry relaxed with a sigh, and her partner glanced sidelong at her.
"And I know the Wheel-bound," the sorceress replied. " 'May your future deeds balance all."
" 'And your feet ever find the Way,' " he finished, smiling at last. "I am called Landric."
"I'm Tarma -- my companion is Kethry. Just out of curiosity -- how did you know we were she'ene-dran?" Tarma asked as he moved up to walk beside their mounts. "Even among Shin'a'in, oathsisters aren't that common."
He was a big man, and muscular. He wore simple brown homespun, but the garments were well made. His hair and eyes were a few shades darker than his sun-darkened skin. He swung the scythe up gracefully out of the way, and though he eyed Tarma's beast-companion warily, he made no moves as though he were afraid of it. Tarma gave him points for that.
"Had a pair of oathbound mercenaries in my company," he replied, "That was before I took the Wheel, of course. Brother and sister, and both Swordsworn as well, as I recall. When you held up your hands, I recognized the crescent palm-scar, and I couldn't imagine a Shin'a'in traveling with any but her oathsister. If you've a wish to guest with me, be welcome -- even though--" his face clouded, "--I fear my hearth's cold comfort now."