[Shadowed Path 01] - A Woman Worth Ten Coppers Read Online Free

drained. After tossing the bottle away, he reached into a crate and took out another. Yim made no sound and lay absolutely still, hoping that brandy was all the man wanted. The robber staggered back to the door and handed the bottle to another who stood outside. “Don’ get so stinkin’ ye get lost,” said the man. Yim recognized his voice; he was the scar-faced man who had bought the ribbon.
    “I know the way,” replied the man on the ground, “drunk or sober.”
    “Then don’ bother me till we’re there. Got me some business.”
    Yim heard a laugh. “I’d like a bit o’ that, too. Let me know when yer done.”
    “Stick to yer drivin’. This birdie’s mine.”
    The door shut and it was dark again. Soon the wagon began to move. Yim heard boots crunching spilled grain and then a drunken voice softly calling as one might to a frightened cat. “Ribbon Girl. Purr-ty Ribbon Girl.”
    Yim remained silent as the man stumbled about in the dark. She heard him trip and curse. Then a boot struck her knee. “Ah! There ye are.”
    Yim forced herself to be still and silent, then watched terror-stricken while the man moved so he straddled her. His shadowy form swayed unsteadily as he drew his long-bladed dagger and squatted to touch its cold blade against her neck. “Well, birdie, yer father walks the Dark Path. Wanna join ’im?”
    “No,” whispered Yim.
    The man pressed the flat of the blade more firmly against her throat. “What?”
    “I don’t want to die.”
    The man pulled the blade away. “Then don’ make me mad, ’cause it’s no great loss if I slit yer throat.” He used his dagger to cut the rope that bound Yim’s wrists to her ankles. “Get on yer back.”
    The man stood aside so Yim could roll on her back and extend her cramped legs. She remained as helpless as before, for her wrists and ankles were still securely tied. Afterward, her captor dropped his dagger so he could use both hands to tug at her shift. He jerked its skirt upward to expose her shins and then her thighs. He didn’t stop tugging until the fabric was bunched around her midsection and she was naked from the waist down. Then he clawed between her legs in a rough travesty of a caress. His touch made Yim shudder, and she clenched her teeth so as not to cry out.
    When the man finished with his pawing, he untied the cord about the waist of his trousers, lowered them partway, and flopped upon Yim as if he were falling into bed. He did nothing to soften the impact, which knocked the wind from her. When Yim gasped for air, she smelled the thick, sweet stench of drink on her assailant’s breath. His face was so close to hers that she felt warmth each time he exhaled. “Girly, Girly, Ribbon Girly,” he sang tunelessly as his heavy body pressed against hers. He felt as inert as a corpse. “Spread yer legs, Ribbon Girl.”
    “I can’t,” said Yim, her voice constricted by fright. “They’re tied together.”
    “I said spread them!”
    “I will! I will! Just cut my bonds.”
    The man began groping for his dagger and Yim had no idea if it was to cut her bonds or her throat. His hand struck the wagon’s floor, feeling for the blade without finding it. The beat gradually slowed, then stopped altogether. By then, the man’s stubbly cheek rested against Yim’s. It remained there as he became dead weight. Yim held herself absolutely still—except for a tremor that she was unable to control—although the mere touch of the man’s bare thighs against hers was repellent. After a while, her abuser’s breathing became regular. Soon, he was snoring loudly and wetting her face with his drool. Meanwhile, the wagon rolled onward.
     
    Throughout the remainder of the night, Yim lay beneath the unconscious man. Lying still was agonizing, but she didn’t dare move for fear of reviving her attacker and causing him to finish what he had begun. Yim couldn’t sleep or even rest. Every moment, she expected her nightmare to begin anew.
    Eventually