Doubts

Writers: Leigh M-F.
Date Posted: 26th April 2016

Characters: Nohria
Description: For the first time in a while, Nohria allows herself to question herself.
Location: Amber Hills Hold
Date: month 5, day 20 of Turn 8
Notes: Mentioned: Goulan (NPC), Zelanka, Lord Zathris, Lady Benani and Camnae, Corran and Warden, K'ran

Nohria wasn't one to go looking for answers in the bottom of a mug, but tonight was an exception. A couple of eighth-Marks left unattended from a card game she had cleaned up after had bought her some beer at the tavern where she normally met Goulan, and now she was tipsy enough to brood like nothing else.

She had been in Amber Hills Hold too long. She was starting to slip up, get careless. It would be best if she asked Goulan to pull her out and send in a replacement. However, more thought made the black-eyed woman conclude that might not be possible; it would look suspicious to Zelanka, no doubt, if Nohria disappeared and another strange woman took her place. The Headwoman was sharp; it was honestly a wonder the bandits had gotten away with anything with her around.

More, as much as Nohria missed the freedom she'd possessed as an outlaw, the camaraderie she'd shared with the men and women, she found she didn't yet want to give up. Zathris couldn't be trusted as Lord Holder; his treatment of Benani proved that. Any smart man in a position of political power would have realized their spouses, children, friends and family had targets painted on their backs, and taken steps to protect them. If a Lord couldn't even protect his Lady, how could he protect his holders?

If Benani had owned her canine _before_, maybe she wouldn't have been kidnapped and put through only the Ancients knew what. Yes, perhaps the canine might have been hurt or killed, but it might have given Benani a chance to run, to scream for help, to do _something_ to protect herself. Fardles, if anyone had bothered to teach Benani some self-defense or weapons handling, maybe she could have stalled the kidnapper long enough for help to arrive. But Zathris hadn't, instead consigning his loyal, loving wife to a life of being a broodmare, and she had suffered for his idiocy. The Lord did not deserve his Lady's trust and devotion.

Then there was the matter of the craftban. No one had ever bothered to petition to have it lifted, had they? No one seemed to realize that if women could craft, the workforce would expand and serve more people, or just bring in more Marks, which meant prosperity for everyone involved. Forcing women to breed and men to work hamstrung the entire operation, especially in overpopulated major and minor Holds. There was too much strain; something would give eventually, and in a spectacular fashion.

Among the Holdless, everyone had to contribute somehow, and develop a skill of some sort. They understood that shoving able-bodied and able-minded women aside, forcing them to breed for the rest of their lives when they could _work_ and be _helpful_ was utter foolishness. It was one reason why Nohria had been largely unmolested for Turns on end: Her skills were too valuable to waste. The Weyrs had the right idea in letting their women craft, but it wasn't official rank, and even they had never bothered to try petitioning.

Yet would petitions to lift the craftban even work? Would anyone in power care to listen? Nohria didn't know. But she didn't think it was likely.

And then there was Corran. Strong Corran. Tough Corran. Unexpectedly gentle and kind Corran. A man who respected his mother's lessons, who fought like a woman, whose combat prowess had aroused her, whose attitudes intrigued her. Ancients, if only Nohria could somehow convince him the bandits' cause was a worthy one -that _her_ cause was worthy-, he would be welcomed among them with open arms. A man like him could make the brawlers among the bandits into forces to be feared. But Corran's moral compass was apparently fixed in one direction, and Nohria doubted he would want to turn away from his parents, his bronzeriding brother, and his career for something he had likely been told was something worse than death: Lawlessness. Holdlessness. Change. Freedom.

He could never understand the cause. Her cause. Her.

Nohria drained the last of her beer and threw down the eighth-Marks, getting up to depart the tavern. No, she couldn't leave Amber Hills just yet. Too much was at stake. She would just have to try to be more careful.

But doubt, that horrible, niggling fear that all her actions were for naught, remained.

Last updated on the April 27th 2016

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Doubts