10. FAVOUR TRADES

It didn't take long for old character traits to resurface. While Violet felt elation at being out of the dark, between her long bouts of crying, her agitated self began to return. The place really was filthy. Granted, everyone here lived in a cave so it couldn't be helped much. Dirt was just going to be around. Violet knew her more favourable conditions from helping their captain were precarious. She really ought not to ask for a sponge and hot soapy water. And so she sat on her bedding, agitated by the grime and uncleanliness around her. Unable to clean it, but unable to just ignore it now either. Under her eyes it seemed to proliferate.

She reached into her wild hair and started raking fingers through it, cringing at how disgusting it felt. She was disgusting. She'd received a few tray meals and thankfully they didn't come from Jarmila so Violet felt safe eating them. They were delivered by pert-mouthed illagers who seemed neither friendly nor unfriendly. The water that came with them wasn't enough to wash her body. Asking that they allow her to clean herself at the rock pools was a request Violet felt was perfectly permissible. Surely they would understand the necessity of that? Even with a newfound ability to see her surroundings, there was only so many ways Violet could distract herself before her intrusive and terrible thoughts came back.

Also the fear of death - Violet could not allow it to overwhelm her, she had to keep fighting against that settling in again. Lest she return to gasping, clawing at her own arms in a tight bundle. Purple lines and scratches patterned the pale skin. That state of hers lasted hours and only ended when her mind pulled itself loose and she disassociated, losing all thoughts… only to fall asleep and then wake up, crying fresh tears as the realisation of her reality came back to her. Snapping back to the present, Violet shook off the thoughts and tried to think more productively.

Her charity had lifted the illagers' favour into an uncertain, neutral zone. That was good and all, but no matter how scared she was she couldn't live with herself if she became their regular supplier of healing potions. It would feel like she had a hand in their violence; Violet couldn't do that. Better to be dead. She'd sooner ask to be put out of her misery. Jarmila would likely oblige, run her through with that serrated sword. No, Violet amended that thought, her enemy had an instinct for what caused the most pain. She'd never let Violet die if that was what she wanted. Violet sat and bit her thumbnail, which was long but also flimsy from the malnourishment. She remained deep in thought until her next meal was delivered, she recognised the illager.

"Sagan!" Her relief was like meeting a friend. He gave no reaction, just stared with her tray in his hands. He wasn't even friendly, but perhaps he was the least unfriendly and that made him a relief to see. Violet stood off her bed, "Would I be allowed to clean myself in one of the rock pools?"

He stared for a moment more and Violet stared back, still sure this was an acceptable request. He walked in and set her tray down on the flat stone.

"Follow hither," He turned and left.

Violet was glad but also uncertain. At any rate, she was allowed to leave her tiny space. She followed Sagan to one of the isolated spots in the cave. She could see the top of a small source cube waterfall and could hear it crashing down into pools behind a ring of giant boulders. They were many times taller than Violet, but between two was a gap they could turn side-on to wedge through. Sagan went and Violet turned, following him into a private area. There was nowhere Violet could run off if she was of the mind to. Another gap between boulders was too small to fit through, but could possibly be used to scale up. Not that Violet would try, the dark rock looked precariously slippery.

Sagan stood aside and crossed his arms, "Go ahead."

Violet blushed, "A-are you just going to stand there?"

"We hast been instructed not to let thee out of our sights when thou are outside thy room."

Violet turned away from him, still blushing, and began to creep over the rocks toward the flowing water. It would've been better if she'd had a woman illager with her, though if it had been Jarmila she'd be just as nervous. Violet pulled off her boots and socks first and set them down neatly beside each other, then she crept with her bare feet over the wet and hard surface. None of the men had shown any interest in her in that way, despite the fact she was a helpless prisoner. It was probably because they were a different species. Violet tried to comfort herself with that thought as she crouched by the water's edge, her back to Sagan.

She took off her top first, folded it and set it down where it wouldn't get wet. Then she did so with her pants, and finally her undergarments. They were her only set of clothes here, and it wasn't hot enough underground for her to hang around in her room, wet. She slid off the rocks into cold flowing water. Her feet barely touched the ground and that surprised her. She started to forget the man standing behind her now she could finally get clean. She rubbed under her arms, she wiped the grime and old sweat from off her body. Then she finally tilted her head back and combed through her hair until all the kinks were gone. It was almost therapeutic. She cast a look over her shoulder and saw Sagan hadn't moved, those red eyes on her and she flinched away. She moved more business-like now, getting herself as clean as she could.

After that she was torn between getting out of Sagan's line of sight or enjoying this reprieve a bit more. She swam over to the flowing water, where she couldn't touch the bottom, and she held her face under the falling water. She closed her eyes and the torrent flushed her face, neck and the top of her chest. She enjoyed that for a while until she heard a noise over the roaring water: what may have been Sagan clearing his throat. With a sigh Violet swam away to the edge. She climbed out, trying to conceal as much as she could before turning and sitting on the flat stone. She twisted her hair together, let the water trickle off her body and scrunched up her shorts to dry herself with them. Then she began to dress.

It was gross putting dirty clothes back on, but she wasn't going to ask for another pair today. She was just grateful she'd been able to wash. Violet put her shoes on last then walked back to where Sagan was waiting, his expression stern.

"Thank you," she said with some uncertainty.

He nodded and then made his way out, Violet followed and they walked back to her scant room. Hearing them come, a desert rabbit sprinted out and around them. Violet went in and Sagan wordlessly left. On the food tray Violet's side of carrots had been nibbled on. The rabbit stew seemed fine though, if cold. The rabbits were like vermin here, but their meat was readily available for the illagers. Violet knelt and ate. When she got to her carrots she broke off the parts that'd been chewed and tossed them out the doorway, then she ate the rest.

In the days that followed Violet didn't request another journey to the rock pools. She'd been in dire need of a wash, but now the matter wasn't so urgent, especially if she was to be watched while doing it. Still, Violet found she was able to make other requests to Sagan, Bronis and various unnamed illagers who delivered her food. Even simply a request to stretch her legs, she would then be accompanied on a short walk around the cave systems. Sometimes her guide would stop to chat with a sitting group of illagers and Violet could listen in. Sometimes, some of them would smile or nod at her. When that happened Violet could only half-smile back. On her trips out of her room she never ran into Jarmila nor Zann. She saw Nedi once from across the cavern, not hard to spot from his sheer size. He'd scowled at her but done nothing else.

One day, a week after being let out of the pit, Violet felt emboldened on one of these walks. There was a group of people straw plaiting, some seemed to be making decorative little nothings, while others were weaving baskets.

"What are you making?" Violet asked them. The discussion around her ceased and they all looked at her. Violet waited for an answer.

"We need more baskets for our supplies," the woman answered.

"I wouldn't mind helping. Even if you just left a bunch of straw in my room. My hands need something to do."

They were clearly uncertain about whether that was a good idea. Still, Violet was speaking from a place of honesty. She liked being busy and productive. Another month of spending her days pacing around, locked in her mind, was going to erase all traces of sanity she had left. She didn't want to help the pillagers, but the families who stayed back and minded the cave? Why not?

Before an answer came Sagan made his way over.

"I shall escort Violet back to her station. Come hither," he turned and Violet obediently started walking. She knew the way by now.

They walked in silence for a while before she heard Sagan murmuring at her side, "Thou wishes to help?"

"Not much else I can do since I'm trapped here."

"Dost thou desire more freedoms?"

Violet side-eyed him now, "Sure. But mainly, I just want some preoccupations."

They were quiet for the rest of the walk. Then Violet returned to her boring room, as dirty as everywhere else and turned around. Sagan stood thinking in the doorway. Her look became questioning.

"If thou could make another request, what would it be?"

A loaded question. Violet was much too suspicious to bring up the crystal ball, though it was still all she wanted. Things had been levelling out. Instead of getting thrown back in the pit, she felt relatively stable in her new room. Also, she was being allowed out of it sometimes. Her instincts told her that it still wasn't time to mention the crystal ball. She had to bide her time, and that moment would come. As soon as she mentioned it she felt like they'd all be tipped off and make certain to not let it back in her hands. She had to be crafty.

So in being unable to ask for that, Violet's eyes drifted off Sagan and wandered. There was something else she wanted and had been thinking about a lot. It was an irrational desire, and it was likely something they'd deny her for obvious reasons. Violet opened her mouth, but then bit her lip uncertainly. Sagan's curious gaze then drew it out of her.

"I do have another request. I want to learn how to fight."

Sagan laughed then studied her, "Surely thou realises how foolish it would be for us to teach our own prisoner how to fight?"

"I know. And I know there's a good chance I'll die soon anyway, right?" Violet asked and Sagan looked a bit solemn - that confirmed it. "And, I know that even if you trained me I wouldn't be a match for any of you. But still, I can't stop thinking about how I never learnt to defend myself, I never took combat training seriously. That was my biggest mistake. What I want most right now, if not my freedom, would be to fix that mistake so I'm never helpless again."

It felt like an impressive rant, and it came straight from her battered soul. Sagan paused to think on it some more.

"I would also like something from thee, Violet," he confessed.

"What?" She was flummoxed, thinking she had nothing to give. Her memory flashed back to the rock pool and she nervously pulled up the shoulder of her top.

"I would like thee to make me a secret stash of healing potions."

"Oh."

"In exchange I'll give thee lessons in fighting."

Violet thought about it for a moment. If they were caught, if anything went wrong Sagan would throw her to the wolves to save himself and he'd be believed. She would not. Still, to have an ally of sorts might get her closer to the knowledge of where her crystal ball was being held. Before she could think on it more she found herself agreeing.

"Okay. Deal."

Sagan nodded, "I will come to thee at night while the tribe sleeps."

Violet nodded and he went away. She watched him go then took the few steps that led her to her bedding, then she collapsed onto it. Having something to do at night was all well and good, but she still needed something to do in the day or she was going to lose her mind. She couldn't continue to spend her days crying, memorising the stone ridges, remembering friends alive and dead, waiting for her next meal….

That was when an idea came to her. An insane, ridiculous idea that would prove just as fruitless as learning to fight. But what else was there to do? This new idea would just be a preoccupation.

Violet wanted to continue her cultural studies, here.

She'd wanted to write a master paper after all. And even if she could never see herself leaving Lan'Tim on an expatriation ever again, wasn't this still her area of expertise? Granted she'd have to shift the focus of her paper to include illagers but they weren't so far removed from an ordinary testificate. She had no books to write in, but she could begin compiling empirical data in her head. And so with little else to do she accepted her new goal quickly. Violet would begin studying her captors and record observations, if only as a way to keep her sane throughout all this. The atomism of that was typically soothing, it would become her daytime hobby.

Some hours after that Violet fell asleep without noticing. She was standing in her old village once more. It was blurry because she was intentionally holding her mind back so it wouldn't focus on her surroundings. She was afraid, upset and torn. All of that, of course she was. But predominantly the emotion was boredom. She knew this nightmare well and just wanted to race ahead to the end. Any second now everything was going to come into focus, she'd see those awful puddles of blood stretching out from under doorways like they were yawning, ovals reaching for her. Then she'd notice bodies slumped around. If she was unlucky, the nightmare would become even more detailed and she'd recognise villagers as they dragged themselves to her, reaching and begging. If she made it to that part she always woke up screaming. Otherwise it was just-

"Violet!" She was shaken and blinked at the torch that crackled in the corner.

There was Sagan crouching before her. She sat up and wiped away the tears that'd streaked her face. She'd been calling out or bawling, she could tell from how haggard her throat was.

Sagan watched her, "Thou are awake now?"

"Yeah, sorry. What is it…?" She focused on him and his head tilted. Her memory came back - their secret lessons.

"Come hither, I will teach thee how to fight."

Violet nodded and extracted herself from the pelt covers. She was tired but grateful to be woken from her most frequent nightmare. She smoothed out her hair while following Sagan. He peered out at each turn, looking both ways before leading her down another corridor. At his instruction they stuck close to a wall in the main tunnel before slipping into a thin vein. They followed that for a few turns before reaching a room that had a pyramid of stacked wooden crates at the centre.

"What's in here?"

"Just food," Sagan smirked.

He went to the wall where two wooden swords leaned and he tossed one over. Violet fumbled but managed not to drop it. These were blunt. Violet turned it in tosses, getting familiar with the shape and weight.

Sagan stepped up and the tip of his 'weapon' plinked into the stone ground, "I will teach thee the art of the sword. Of course I can't give thee a real one."

"I have nowhere to run, remember?" Violet reminded him.

"Still," he shrugged, "Better for thee to not have one and to not know where our armaments are kept. Now," he swung his sword up and leant it against his shoulder, "show me a sequence."

"A sequence?"

Sagan displayed one for her, turning and flourishing his blade, ending it with a forward stab. Violet just watched and gulped.

Sagan sighed, "Show me a swing."

Violet nodded and stepped toward the boxes. She tried to remember the tips during her lousy compliance with the combat training. Strong stance, she spread and planted her feet. Good grip, she held on with both hands and took a readying breath. She pointed the weapon in the ready position, moved one foot and swung in an arc. Apparently she'd done everything right, but she still felt ridiculous and frail doing it.

Sagan watched and said nothing. Violet had the innate sense she was making a fool of herself whenever she tried using a weapon.

Sagan approached and grabbed her arms, "Thou need to put more power into the swing, thy arms are too loose. Thou also need better grip, otherwise thy opponent would parry and thou'd lose the sword."

Violet gave a firm nod, determined to try again. Prior to being here, she would've sighed and pressed on without putting her heart into it. Because back then fighting was a scary thought. She hadn't liked violence. She still didn't, but defending oneself was a necessity she would never neglect again. She'd been feckless and now she was determined to take fighting as seriously as her studies, like a matter of perfection. Violet continued under Sagan's direction, springing and swinging as he taught her. After several minutes an idea came to her. It was something she'd read in that black military book in Meliora's library: a sword technique that was used against Endermen since their torsos were higher off the ground. Violet didn't see the harm so attempted it, angling her sword above to guard and sweeping forward, then jumping with a swing.

"What was that?" Sagan asked, and after Violet explained he shrugged.

They continued like that for a while, and next they practice fought each other. Sagan was good, of course. He wasn't as big as Nedi, but the grey muscles on his arm bulged as he whipped that sword at her, Violet barely deflecting it each time and forced to give ground. He was always in control of the battle flow. She was pretty sure he was holding back a lot too. A few times he'd knock the sword from her grip or prompt her with her footing. Violet worked up a sweat and after an hour they were finished and drinking water from pouches.

"It be a work in progress, as I expected…" Sagan was lightly out of breath.

"You gave me some good tips." Violet was more so.

"Do not practise them in the day, we don't want anyone seeing and suspecting."

"Alright… so what about the potions?"

"Thou will make many, that way I could say they're for the whole tribe but keep some to myself. For mine brother and I," Sagan explained.

"I see…"

"In time I shall sneak thee away to another place for a night's brewing."

"Sounds fair. So why do you need potions for just you and your brother?"

"I hast a feeling these skirmishes our tribe is having be just the beginning." He changed the subject, "What of thou? Who dost thee answer to in Lan'Tim?"

"I'm an independent researcher, so nobody. Or I guess you could say I answer to Chancellor Jebediah," Violet answered then changed the subject back, "Are these skirmishes you're having against other illager tribes?"

"Yes," Sagan answered then asked, "What about thy mother? Thou quoth she was someone important?"

"She's a strong mage who contributed a lot with discoveries and spells," Violet took another long drink of water. "Are there many illager tribes all fighting over territory here?"

"Many tribes in Enim, but just one in particular fighting us. Both our tribes started expanding and our borders have met. Diplomacy worked at first but there is unsettlement," Sagan too took a long drink. "Are thou very familiar with thy mother's work?"

The answering and then posing of questions continued, always unrelated. Like quid pro quo, or tennis. Violet wasn't getting any information without being asked something in return. It wasn't so bad if it meant he'd tell her things. Especially if Violet would eventually find an opportunity to shift her inquiries toward where they kept the interesting stuff they pillaged without raising any red flags. Even if she was desperate to be saved and go home, she knew better than to blow what could be her one chance. Not only that, but the fact Sagan gave no answers without attaching a question at the end kept ringing a warning bell in her head.

Soon enough he led her back. Violet crawled under her covers and felt some pride for what she was doing, so she went back to sleep feeling a bit better. In her next nightmare she was still in the village and the blood and bodies were around, but it was also filled with monsters swarming her from all sides. Violet fought them off with her wooden sword, though it worked as well as her iron one had, not that this made much difference with her skill level. Still, she was able to fend off a few rabid swings before something would bite into or tear a chunk out of her. Violet would then die and reappear somewhere else in the small area between buildings, and the monsters would swarm her again. She did her best with the swings, and though she killed a couple of zombies throughout the duration of the long dream, it was almost like she was still practising even when asleep.

For the rest of that week Violet fell into a new schedule. Not only was it vastly greater than the pit, but it was nice in its own right. The Stockholm syndrome definitely had a hand in this. She felt a strange warmth towards the monsters that made her question if she was going to live or die, and she couldn't figure out where it was coming from. It had to be that psychological muddle of victims loving their abusers. Her system was overloaded by stress and pain. It wasn't just a warmth toward the illagers. They all worshipped their leader Zann, and somehow he'd become just as intriguing and wonderful to Violet as well. It was like their adoration displaced itself onto her, she couldn't help feeling a deep level of respect for him. It was certainly sick and twisted, but that was just the way Violet felt.

She supposed that even with her plan to carefully manoeuvre herself into a position to reclaim her crystal ball, part of her still didn't believe she had a chance to escape them alive. She was running on borrowed time. Months possibly, if not less.

Still, once a day Violet was allowed to walk around the caves so long as someone stuck with her and watched her. The other illagers were becoming more familiar with seeing her around, she could tell. They were minding her less and less. Whether this even mattered. She didn't see Zann around so he was either out travelling, pillaging or busy in private cave channels. She'd not seen him since giving him that healing potion over a week ago. It was making him all the more mysterious and intriguing, something she hated feeling but also something she didn't seem to have much control over.

Tiril, the rotund matron was also the head cook so she prepared food for everyone. A few kitchen hands helped but mostly it was by her efforts that everyone stayed well fed. Violet was out in the main area at lunch time, Jarmila was across the space and glaring at her. True to her word Jarmila always watched with a gaze purporting to soon catch her in a suspicious act. Instead of worrying over that, Violet tried to ignore her and focus on Tiril as she filled a bowl with rabbit stew and dropped an assortment of cooked vegetables onto a tray for Violet. It was smaller than other portions, but not by much.

"Thank you," Violet spoke with genuine gratitude and Tiril's answering smile wasn't without warmth.

Violet thought again about this problematic sense of loyalty as she climbed a rock to sit down. She sighed at her food, she just couldn't help herself. She started to eat, it was hot and good so she felt a bit better regardless. Of course the memories of her fallen friends returned at random moments, setting her off crying and convincing her to hate the illagers again. But all that negative emotion mixed with her endearment into a swampy nausea. When Violet finished eating she was no longer hungry, not with portions like these.

And so, Violet remained sitting on a boulder above her escort and while he chatted away she fell back into making observations about everyone. She paid attention to what they were doing, from the children running about playing violent imaginary games, to those up in their wall pockets who could be seen lazing in hammocks, to those in shallow circular pits around fires and practising with their whittled flutes. She watched an illager by the long table of food, trying to convince Tiril to grant him an extra portion. She filed it all away as if she really might escape this alive, and instead of being a meaningless nightmare there could be details here she could use for academic work.

It took more time than usual, but then Violet was being escorted back to her room. Another request she'd made that was honoured was that sometimes she would have female illagers with her. It meant she could be a bit more relaxed when bathing, and she'd cleaned herself a few more times in different pools.

Every night Sagan would take her away for an hour's training. She'd improved a lot with the very basics of sword fighting, but his lessons confused her. He taught her a few stabbing moves that didn't seem right for swords but more suited to fencing. Also, overhead swings that Violet didn't feel comfortable with. She'd asked about using kicks when her opponents were close but he'd said not to, that it was only recommended she attack with the sword or else she was likely to get hurt. Violet decided she shouldn't question him and just tried out the moves as he showed her. He was the expert, she supposed.

。。。

【AN: Another chapter donezo. This isn't going to be one of my super long fics, but should still make it over 100k words. Review?】