Marri's Approach (Brackish Bay) Read Free

a story?”
    “I can, if your mama allows it.”
    Sarafina smiled. “A short one, while I finish this.”
    “All right.” I settled onto the ground. “Once there was a woman who was a soldier.”
    “A soldier?”
    “Yes. Just like the men, she was strong and could swing a sword or shoot a bow or even, sometimes, when they had ammunition, she could shoot a gun.”
    “Wow.”
    “And one day her general told her to go get information.”
    “Information?”
    “Stuff about their enemies. How many soldiers they had, what kind of weapons, and what they would do when the woman's army attacked.”
    “Did she?”
    “Yes, she did. She was good at it, too. She went to the enemy and found out everything her general wanted, and then she went back to her army. Her army attacked the enemy, and they won, thanks to the solider. So from then on, she became a spy.”
    “What's a spy?”
    “A solider who sneaks up to the enemy and gets information is a spy.”
    “Ooh.”
    “So the spy became a very good spy and learned lots of things.”
    “Did she get married?”
    “I don't know. I don't think she wants to get married.”
    “She doesn't?”
    I glanced at Sarafina, wondering what their moral rules are. I hoped she did not come from horse tribe stock.
    “No, she wants to keep being a spy, and most husbands would say no to that.”
    “Mama is still a textile artist .” I loved how the little voice put emphasis on the words, and Sarafina grinned with pleasure. “Daddy wants her to do what she is good at. That's what good husbands do, isn't that right, Mama?”
    She grinned, finishing the last clump of wool. “It sure is, Yasmine. Daddy's a great husband. And when you grow up, you can find a great husband, too.” She picked up the child and they rubbed noses, cuter than cute. “Just like your big sisters did. They found husbands that are good men, just like your brothers grew up to be, and are growing up to be.”
    I heard a boyish voice from inside the house. “I wouldn't want to marry a soldier!”
    Sarafina giggled. “Hah, I knew you were listening, Rafiq.” A boy came into view, arms crossed and eyebrows raised. “You don't have to marry a soldier. But if you did, I know you would support her to be the best soldier she could be.”
    The boy turned towards the table without answering. Sarafina dished up soup from a pot on a woodstove, then began to cut fat into handfuls of flour from a jar high on the shelf.
    “Biscuits?” The boy was incredulous.
    Sarafina shushed him. “We have a guest.”
    I smiled at him, recognizing that ground wheat flour was probably far more expensive and harder to come by than rice in this place. Wheat was harder to grow, now that the land was swampy and flooded.
    “I am honored. What can I do to help?”
    “Nothing, nothing. Just wash up and sit down, thank you. I welcome you to our home, Marri.”
    “Thank you so very much for your hospitality.”
    “Oh, quite welcome.”
    In short order there were biscuits baking in a pan on top of the stove, and a bowl of steaming bean and fish soup in front of me. The scent reached in my nostrils and put claws into my stomach. I dug in, then tried to remember my former madam's rules for eating properly. I sat up straighter, took smaller bites, and chewed more demurely. It paid off when Sarafina complimented my manners.
    “Thank you. I'm a bit rusty, I fear.”
    It had been many months since I lived with Madame Bon, the owner of the brothel I belonged to and worked in for a year.
    “You're better than a lot of the slaves that come through here. There are some who were never taught manners at all, who eat so sloppily I can't imagine how they enjoy their food.”
    I blushed, glad I'd had someone to teach me a little better. I wonder, Fortuna, what she would say if she knew I had learned when I was a whore? I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing at the thought.
    “I'm sure. Are there many slaves who come through here?”
    “Not many,