Chapter 09 - Hockheba

Avia watched Putt leave with his sword and then sat down beside Hockheba. Sitting side by side indicated a desire for trust rather than asserting power. "I don't want you to talk to him," she said plainly, without aggression.
"Surprise me," Hockheba replied, her tone laced with sarcasm.
Avia met her gaze. "No. And I don't want any surprises from you either."
Hockheba chuckled, a sound that Avia found hard to relate to. She never understood this behavior of treating her like part of the punishment system simply because she was tasked with transporting the prisoner. Why couldn't people see each individual for who they were in the moment?
Avia suspected that neither Sinik nor Pho knew more about Hockheba's crimes than they were told. Yet, they often reminded the prisoner of her place by yanking her ropes or teasing her during meals. When Avia scolded them in private, they questioned whose side she was on. Side? She was just doing her job. Transporting a prisoner from one place to another was all that mattered. The nature of the crime was irrelevant to her. She knew there was more to a person than their crime.
"You know, I don't care about what crimes got you here. My job is to take you to Posita, alive and in good health. It's a lot easier if you cooperate."
"Why should I make it easy for you?" Hockheba retorted.
"I'm talking about making it easier for yourself," Avia replied with a slight smile. "The easiest for me would have been to throw you as a bundle over a mule."
"How glorious of you not to," Hockheba said with her bristly voice.
"I think I could've stood the smell from your pee and shit and throw-ups."
Hockheba blinked in distaste. Avia knew the suggestion was far-fetched but wanted to drive home that it could be worse.
"What do you want?" Hockheba asked.
"For you not to talk to the boy."
"Or you will throw me over the mule?"
Avia shook her head. "What do you think of me? No. All I'm asking is that you stay away from my apprentice."
"It's not much of an apprentice."
"Stay away from him nevertheless. If you need to talk, you can talk to me."
Hockheba nodded, and Avia stood up. She hoped Pho, sitting nearest to Hockheba, had heard the instructions and would help keep Putt away from her. Putt might be drawn back to Hockheba, as she had said the right things to him, offering a false sense of security.
To an untrained ear, Hockheba's words seemed harmless, but Avia suspected there was more to it. Hockheba had no reason to talk to Putt. Perhaps she just wanted to be nice, feeling compassion for the boy in this strange world. Or perhaps she had ulterior motives.
Avia reminded herself to be Putt's grandmother too. He had only seen her as his master recently, and as a master, she wasn't much of a comfort. She needed to remember she had been his grandmother long before she became his master.
She watched Sinik cook in a pot. They had brought a pot and food, so hunting wasn't necessary. It made sense, but she missed hunting and the taste of fresh meat. She didn't care much for stews of dried beans and salted pork. Feeling a sudden sense of not belonging, she turned and walked away to find Putt.


Avia found Putt not far from the camp, practicing with his wooden sword. She halted before he saw her and watched his moves. He wasn't a natural talent, but his initiative and relentless energy were promising. Putt wasn’t a lazy apprentice, which gave her hope that he would make her proud someday.
To be a proper grandmother felt distant now. First and foremost, she was a warrior. She approached, and Putt halted as he saw her, panting and wiping sweat from his forehead with his sleeve.
"Grandma," he said with joy. "I think I'm getting better at this."
She gave an approving nod. "You work hard. That's promising."
Putt grinned, catching his breath. "Grandma," he said after a moment's thought.
Avia wanted to be his master, not his grandmother, at that moment. "Yes?"
"What did you mean when you said you gave me the task as my master and not as my grandma? I mean, you're always my grandma."
Avia took a deep breath. The boy wasn’t aware of the difference she presumed was obvious. "Being a grandma and being a master are two separate things," she began. "A grandparent’s duties and privileges differ from those of a master. For instance, masters always have to teach and discipline their apprentices, while grandparents don't. Do you understand?"
Putt nodded but frowned. "How can you be the one who punishes me when you’re also the one who doesn’t? Are you no longer my grandma?"
Avia felt torn. Putt expected her to be his grandmother, the comforting figure who told stories in the evening, a reminder of home. But for her, that time was over. Not only because she was now his master but because the role of his ideal grandmother was something she could uphold only during visits when the warrior wasn’t needed.
"I’m bound by blood to be your grandma," she answered. "Always will be. But if you want me to train you as a warrior, there can be no more of that. You need to see me as your master, nothing else. From time to time we can relax it, but not regularly. Can we agree on that?"
The boy’s eyes were hard to read. Was there disappointment? "Can we agree on that?" she pressed.
Putt nodded and picked up his sword. "Will you keep telling me stories?" he asked, almost begging.
With a nod, Avia confirmed that she would. Most warriors were obliged to tell about their adventures, fables, or real events; it didn’t make much difference. People wanted entertainment, not facts.
Avia drew her sword and showed Putt new moves. He practiced under her supervision. Did he understand what a sword was used for, she wondered? He liked the exercises, but did he realize he might have to use a real sword to kill people? Thinking back on her own apprenticeship, she wasn’t keen on the idea of slaying humans but was fully aware it was where it led. Putt seemed so naive. The humble, kind, and unselfish boy was also so unaware and trusting. She found herself thinking in terms of "pure" and "untouched." Would she ruin him? Was she ruined or perfected?
"What do you think when you see our prisoner?" she inquired.
Putt paused mid-move and blushed. "She’s pretty," he said in a small voice.
Avia placed her old, calloused hands on Putt’s narrow shoulders, bending down to meet his eyes. "Don’t ever mistake a beautiful face for anything but a beautiful face."
"What?"
"If someone is beautiful, it doesn’t mean anything more than that they have a beautiful face. It doesn’t tell if the person is clever or kind. Or innocent. Do you understand?"
"She seemed nice," Putt muttered.
"You don’t know that, Putt, and you shouldn’t find out either. Our job is to take her to Posita, nothing more. Understand?"
Putt nodded, but Avia felt his unease. "Is there something you want to ask me?"
"Well... I remember this story I heard about a warrior who freed a prisoner because he was innocent. If you never learn to know the prisoner, how will you know if she is innocent or not?"
Avia sighed and let go of Putt’s shoulders. "That’s nothing but a story, boy. Warriors handle their missions with professionalism. As such, you don’t act as a judge unless asked to."
"But isn’t it boring, just to take a prisoner somewhere?"
She felt the hero’s aura around warriors fall apart for the boy. That was good. The sooner he understood what it was all about, the better.
"Boring in the sense of not enough heroism for you? Boy, listen up! It takes skill to transport a prisoner safely. It may not be glamorous, but it’s a paid warrior’s job that’s highly requested. If other people’s safety, justice, and law are too simple for you to bother with, you’ve got nothing to do in this profession."
Putt’s eyes were on the ground in front of him. "I’m sorry, grandma."
"'Master,'" she corrected him.
"I’m sorry, master."


In the following days, Avia struggled to keep Putt away from Hockheba. It wasn’t that Putt deliberately disobeyed her; she understood that much, though accepting it demanded a lot from her experience and patience. The attraction between the two of them was of another kind, at least from her grandson's perspective. Putt needed a mother, and no matter how awkward and impossible it seemed to Avia, their prisoner fulfilled that role.
Yes, she was jealous. It was a surprise to feel this sensation. She, who insisted on being his master and not his granny, envied the one who took the place she left. The woman Putt had picked for his needs was everything she did not want for him. She was a convicted criminal. She was also a beautiful woman of the right age and had a friendly and loving attitude.
To Avia's annoyance, she felt like a villain every time she caught them talking and forced them apart. She cursed herself for accepting the mission so soon after Putt's terrifying experiences, but doing so did not change the problem at hand. In an ideal world, Putt and Hockheba’s friendship would be honest and without ulterior motives, and both would accept the inevitable ending when they arrived in Posita. However, Putt was too young to understand such an ending, and Hockheba had all the reasons in the world to hide her intentions from him. In a perfect world, there would be no need for warriors or prisoners. Nothing indicated the world was a sugarcoated dreamland. She had to expect the prisoner to want something from Putt that was more than mere company.
It didn’t help when Oon Barsate took Avia aside and voiced her opinion about Putt’s reckless and undisciplined behavior and his contact with the woman. Avia could only agree. It was unacceptable. With five days left of their journey, it was too long for her to just let things be. It wasn’t that she hadn’t spoken to Putt about it, but he was drawn to Hockheba like iron to a magnet. It didn’t take long before he walked close enough to her that they could talk.
Sinik tried to block him, but the path was no longer a narrow strip along a mountainside. They were down in the valley now and soon out on the plains. As the path became a road, Sinik grew tired of babysitting Putt, as he expressed it when Avia complained. If she couldn’t teach the boy the rules, he wasn’t going to take the blame for her failure, he said. Though Avia insisted otherwise to him, she knew in her heart that Sinik was right.
She also noted that the mood in the camp had changed for the worse. Putt was about to ruin her reputation, the one thing that brought food to the table for a warrior. When she saw him sit down with Hockheba again, she rose, grabbed him by the neck, and more or less lifted him off the ground, taking him into the forest. She was furious, and when she let go of him, she more or less threw him to the ground.
"Now you listen, you stupid little brat!" she growled. "How hard is it to understand? If you don't stay away from her, I'll whip you until you do!"
"She's nice," the boy whimpered.
"I don't care! Your behavior is unacceptable! I've told you, and you still can't stay away like a boy who can't stop peeing in bed at night. Have you no sense of self-control? No sense for others but yourself?"
It was unfair, and she knew it. Putt was kind and unselfish, and he had too many feelings for the people around him to care for his own interests.
"She... needs me," he whispered.
She froze. Of course. When she had not been able to make him feel wanted and needed and loved, he had found what he needed somewhere else. This someone had targeted the boy's hunger and used him. The urge to not feel unwanted was stronger than any logic and any command.
She had used the wrong tactics with the boy all along. It was the biggest mistake she had ever made to make Putt her apprentice.
Avia hardly had time to finish the thought before they heard an uproar from the camp. Her eyes returned to Putt, and when she saw his eyes, she knew.
She swung away from the traitor and ran toward the camp. As she ran, she strung her bow. Soon she picked up the sound of running feet, and she changed course to pursue. She saw the fleeing Hockheba and sent an arrow flying through the air, passing the pursuing Sinik and Pho and burying itself in a tree trunk after passing through the prisoner’s hand.
Hockheba was nailed.