by CA Morgan
Both Eris and Raga felt their pulses flutter and their stomachs knot. There was at least a score of women in front of them.
“Have we come so far only to be turned away?” Raga worried as the guard began inspecting the women in line ahead of them.
“Blast you, Raga!” Eris whispered angrily. “Don’t you dare give up now. Especially not after everything you’ve done to me. Get the make-up off of my face.”
“But Eris—”
“Do it! I’ve already wiped half of it off by accident, because I’m sweating like a lathered horse under here. And do something about my feet. They look like I’ve been slopping hogs.”
“What good will it do? The guards have already chosen two girls,” Raga told him.
“Do it, damn you, and let me do the rest.”
“All right, close your eyes. We are going to have a little dust demon whirl through,” Raga said and Eris heard him mutter in the strange language as before.
Eris felt the breeze begin to stir. Tiny grains of sand were lifted into the swirling air and began to pelt his feet, gently at first, then the air twisted rapidly lifting the sand high on the currents of the rising brownish funnel. Wildly unpredictable snippets of wind tugged at the edges of cloaks and tunics. He heard the surprised squeals and shouts of the people around him. In spite of his limited vision, he saw the other girls cowering on the ground, covering themselves tightly against the stinging grit.
Under the cover of the full hood, Eris felt a warm mist rise up and knew the cosmetics were being removed from his face. A slight, almost as if it wasn’t there, coolness passed over him.
“Sorry, that’s the best I can do to cool you off. Cold isn’t exactly one of my strong points.”
“It felt nice while it lasted,” Eris said. “What are the other girls doing? Where are the guards?”
Raga shielded his eyes against the last spiral of dust and looked around.
“The guards are coming this way. Most of the girls are still on the ground. I’m sure most of them believe it’s bad luck to be caught in the whirling winds.”
“And so it is.”
Raga noted the familiar tone of confidence in his voice and watched as Eris, boldly for a woman, untied his cloak, but didn’t remove it from his shoulders. He shook back his head in such a way that the hood fell back.
Taking a hold of the garment at the collar with both hands, he held it slightly behind his shoulders and shook out the sand. Looking from the corner of his eye, he saw that his startling beauty had attracted the attention of at least one guard, who prompted the other to follow him past the line of girls still huddled on the ground.
“Oh!” Eris exclaimed and pretended modesty when the guards stopped a pace in front of them. As he quickly wrapped the cloak back around his shoulders and intentionally fumbled with the hood, one guard stopped him.
“Well, well, what sort of maid do we have here?” the guard queried. With a rough-skinned hand, he took a hold of Eris’ chin and pulled his face around for a better look.
Eris continued to feign modesty and tried to pull away, but not before he let the guards have a good look at his jade-like eyes and intense, natural beauty.
“Would you look at her,” the second guard marveled. “Where did you come from, girl?”
Eris laughed with a nervous sound and managed to make himself blush just enough, then concerned himself with re-tying the cloak around his shoulders. All the while, he sent messages to Raga through their bond.
“She comes from a land within sight of the Red Vale,” Raga explained.
“The Red Vale?” the first guard questioned. “Is there really a people who value their lives so cheaply as to live in the Lands of the Night Vales?”
“Of course, my good man. Men will live wherever they can find a piece of land to call their own,” Raga said. “Their men are exceedingly brave, and their women proud and beautiful. Did you not notice the unusual beauty of my offering for the Sultan? Did you not see how she refused to cower in the face of that harmless whirlwind?”
“That is true. I thought it strange myself,” the second guard agreed.
“Listen, I will tell you something that very few people know. Whenever a woman of her tribe sees a whirlwind, she throws herself straight into the middle of the whirling vortex. It’s the belief of her people that the next child born of her will be a son. And those who are already with child do it to ensure a son strong of limb and cunning of mind,” Raga continued, pleased to see they believed his tale.
“But she didn’t throw herself into the wind,” the first guard noted not quite as convinced as the second.
“She didn’t have to. Didn’t you see how it came straight for her? It’s an omen of good fortune for the Sultan.” Raga pulled the hood back from Eris’ face and he looked demurely to the ground.
“You’re taking this a little too far.”
“We almost have them, but the tall one doesn’t want to be convinced.” Raga motioned to Eris. “How could the Sultan refuse such a pure maiden? Her face glows without the use of artifice unlike these other women. Why, she even has three sisters, who have thirteen sons between them. Think of the handsome son she could bear. I’m sure your Sultan will find some way to reward you for discovering her.”
“Verin scourge your tongue with blistering sand, sorcerer. I’m not an animal with a pedigreed bloodline.” Eris fumed in annoyance listening to the sorcerer’s endless banter, while he could do no more than stand there like a mare awaiting the arrival of the stallion.
“There is much in what you say,” the first guard conceded with a nod.
“She’s much more attractive than many we’ve shown through the last few days,” the second said. “I’d even wager you half a week’s pay that his Excellency will take her immediately once he hears of this omen. And that is saying nothing of her sisters.”
Eris knew then he had the man completely enthralled owing to the sappy, wide-eyed look on his face. At least Raga didn’t let his jaw hang to his shoulders.
“You may be right, and if not, I’ll have great pleasure in spending your gold,” the first said with a laugh. Then he said to Raga, “Very well, merchant, take your wench and go stand with those two over there.”
Raga inclined his head to them and pulled Eris along by the arm.
“I’m still capable of walking on my own,” Eris assured and tugged free.
The men waiting on the steps with their offerings suddenly sprouted pensive expressions as Eris and Raga approached. Raga was much too relieved at being allowed entrance to the palace to pay them any attention. But Eris, ever one to show off when it suited his purposes, met their stares with a cold, haughty look that told them their girls wouldn’t have a chance against him.
“What are you doing?” Raga asked, when he noticed Eris pulling his hood back on with deliberate movements.
“Nothing,” Eris answered innocently, but a wicked smile played on his lips.
Raga frowned and shook his head.
“Behave yourself. We’ve just barely been allowed to go in and you deliberately try to provoke something.”
Eris only laughed and turned to see the guards leading two more girls and their guardians, who were more like slavers, toward the partially assembled group.
Coming up the last flight of steps, one girl tripped on her long skirts and fell. The man behind her immediately began beating her with a thin, flexible shaft that stung, but left no mark upon the flesh. Eris heard her whimpers in spite of the man’s furious shouting.
“You little fool! The Sultan doesn’t want a girl with bruised knees. Get up! You’re not going to cheat me out of the money he’s willing to pay,” he shouted, while the rod continued to snap across her narrow shoulders. “Get up you venomous wench!”
The girl made a feeble attempt to gain her feet, but the force of the man’s presence behind her made her cringe to the ground and plead for his mercy.
“You miserable pig!” Eris suddenly shouted at him. He slippe
d from behind Raga before the sorcerer could contain him.
As a man, Eris rarely paid attention to the beatings and misuse he witnessed feeling it was not his problem, or that somehow the woman had brought the scourge upon herself and whichever the case, shouldn’t interfere. But now his feminine ire was completely aroused. He understood the inherent weakness of his woman’s form and knew the girl could no more defend herself from this man’s fury than could ten men withstand a mounted cavalry.
Before the angered man realized Eris was beside him, he was bereft of his whip and it lay broken at his feet. Eris knelt beside the girl. And she was just that, a girl of barely sixteen near as he could surmise. What kind of men were these that would attempt to present a child? He helped her dry her eyes with the corner of his cloak.
For his inattentiveness to the girl’s guardian, Eris was rewarded with a hard kick to his thigh. The muscle throbbed with pain and Eris quickly suppressed his explosive anger. He couldn’t afford to change back to his other form now.
“You whore! You bitch! What right have you to interfere with my girl?” the man screamed at him with a face full of red fury.
“Girl? You misbegotten sand flea, you treat her like a dog,” Eris shouted angrily.
The man planted himself for another kick. That same wicked smile came again to Eris’ face. He may not have the physical strength to pound the man into the dust, but he did know a few little tricks.
Deftly, Eris moved out of the way of the kick and grabbed the back of the man’s ankle. Fortunately, he was shod in thin, supple leather. With all the strength he could bring to bear, Eris pinioned the tendon that ran down the back of the man’s ankle until he fell howling to the ground.
The girl suddenly scrambled to her feet fleeing the towering, irate form of Raga, who seized Eris from behind.
“That will be quite enough out of you!” Raga bellowed hauling Eris ungraciously to his feet. “Stay away from them. What he does to her is none of your affair. Get over here and stop causing me so much trouble.”
“Punish her!” shouted a group of men, who had assembled to watch the curious squabble. One of them offered Raga a rod slightly thicker than the one used on the girl, but he slapped it away.
Raga’s eyes blazed with internal fire as he and Eris stared intently at each other. No one in the crowd could ever have imagined the explosive words that flew silently between them. All they saw was an eye-to-eye stand-off between a flesh purveyor and a woman who had yet to learn her place.
“Blast you, Eris! That was the most irrational, stupid, ill-conceived thing I could ever imagine you doing. If fact, I never could have imagined it. That’s how stupid it was! What in the Seven Hells were you thinking? I’ve half a mind to blast you there myself!”
Raga’s anger roared through Eris making his head ring.
“He had no right to beat that girl. Anyone could have tripped.”
“You had no right to jeopardize our plans like that. How do we know they won’t refuse us entrance after this little tantrum of yours?”
“I don’t care. These women are all being treated like animals. I thought to give that pig a little of what he was giving out.”
“You will care if they don’t let us in. You confound me, do you know that? You almost make me believe that you are so naïve that you don’t know this kind of thing goes on every minute of every day. From now on keep your nose out of things that don’t concern you, or I’ll remove it from your face. Permanently.”
“Yes, great lord and master.” Eris’ sarcasm sizzled along the path to Raga’s consciousness.
“Don’t do that either. You’re going to give me a headache. Damn you to the pits, Eris! Will you just cooperate a little and stop making me have to anticipate your every move.”
Eris made a somewhat successful attempt to turn his raging thoughts away from Raga. He watched the first soldier that had spoken to them help the fallen man to his feet and brush off his clothing. None of them could understand the indignation he felt, so what use in trying to explain it. For a moment, he felt entirely conflicted and somewhat ashamed of himself that in the past he hadn’t come to the aid of other women he had seen in similar situations. But, and his anger lessened to a somber reflection, how did one man take on and change an entire world.
The second soldier approached Raga with an amused look that he was unsuccessfully trying to hide.
“Pardon, merchant,” he said, intending for only Raga to hear, but Eris leaned imperceptibly closer.
“I have a proposition for you. Should the Sultan decide not to take your wench, then I should like to purchase her. I prefer my women with a little fire in them. And being a man of modest means, I would hope we can come to an equitable price.”
“Then you will still show us in even in spite of this insufferable display of impudent behavior?” Raga asked.
“Of course, my friend. Either way I’m going to win. Either I’ll get your girl, or I’ll have a nice fat purse. After all, a man like our Sultan also has uses for women who are a little difficult to manage. I’ll even put in a good word for you,” the soldier offered and nudged Raga in the ribs.
“Sap-faced milkworm,” Eris cursed under his breath as they were lead into the palace and Raga squeezed his elbow in warning.
The interior of the immense building was cool and comfortable. The long entrance hall was in shadow as the sun was setting, but farther ahead where Eris saw the Sultan sitting on a multicolored mound of pillows, the light was brighter and seemed brighter still for all the gold that decorated the walls of the room where he held court.
The building was an interesting, even awe-inspiring display of engineering mastery and technique infused with the art and craft of hundreds of craftsmen.
Each piece of verd antique marble used in the construction had been precisely cut and fitted to form walls and floors. Buttresses of that same non-indigenous marble soared halfway to the ceiling and supported great arched spans that created an immense vaulted ceiling.
Nearer to the floor Eris saw a multitude of shallow troughs flowing with clear water and heard the splashing cascade of a water fountain. Passing one pool of water, he was surprised to see a small group of large, colorful fish swim by.
Looking at the massive structure of the building, Eris felt an inkling of doubt as to how he was going to be able to get out. There were windows aplenty, but they were at least twenty spans from the ground. And what few doors there were, were guarded by no less than three guards.
He was sure there were hundreds of doors and passages beyond the two archways that lead out of the Sultan’s great hall and hoped they were structured in some fashion emulating the city streets; neat and organized, not a labyrinth of twists and turns.
The small group lead by the guards stopped several paces from where the Sultan sat. He was surrounded, in all probability, by some of the girls he favored and wished them to remain until he made his final choice. Behind the cushion throne stood three men who were likely his advisors, and a fourth, owing to the simplicity of his dress, was his medical practitioner. Behind them, Eris swallowed hard, were six eunuchs dressed in crimson pantaloons and white turbans that sported a spray of black feathers in the front. They were bare-chested except for the gold chains they wore around their sun-bronzed necks. Most wore earrings in one or both ears and their chunky fingers shimmered with gold bands and precious stones.
The Sultan was an imposing figure. Tall, broad shouldered and edging toward portliness, his eyes indicated a more than average intelligence, and the firm line of his mouth spoke of intolerance to any nay saying of his wishes. His average looking face was pleasant when he smiled, but his mustache and short, pointed beard, flecked with gray, indicated his need to produce a son and educate him before his reign ended.
“How many this time?” the Sultan asked, bored, and he took a drink from his golden goblet.
“If it pleases your Excellency, we have brought the final five maidens. The rest, Excellency, we believe to be n
othing more than trollops seeking your favor,” the first guard explained.
“Very well. Present these and then I shall make my final decision.”
Raga and Eris found themselves at the end of the line through the maneuverings of the other guard. In this way, he would have time to speak with the Sultan about the treasure he’d found.
“I’ve never seen a girl dance so well,” Eris whispered, as the third of them finished her dance in a frenzied whirl.
“That’s only because you can’t see what you can do,” Raga said confidently.
“Try not to let that spell get out of hand. I don’t want to make a fool of myself any more than I have to. Why can’t some of these people go home or something,” Eris said, discreetly taking the two packets of magical powder from Raga.
“Don’t be nervous. We’ll do just fine," Raga assured him.
“You there,” the Sultan finally called to Raga. “You may step forward and present your girl for my consideration.”
“Yes, Excellency,” Raga said respectfully. He bowed low and escorted Eris to stand before the Sultan.
“May I not look upon her face?” he asked and held up his cup for a refill.
“If it pleases your Excellency, I would rather you watch her exquisite performance first. And, begging your pardon, I would ask that you allow me the use of my own musicians. They play the music of her land much better than yours—on such short notice, that is,” Raga said.
The Sultan looked surprised by Raga’s boldness, but said, “As you wish. Bring in your musicians. This girl of yours isn’t pock-marked is she?”
“No, Excellency, I assure you she is quite breathtaking.” Raga turned and focused his attention on the arched doorway to the right of the dais.
A group of six illusory musicians entered the main hall from one of the side halls, and seated themselves on the floor not far from the colorful throne. They sat quietly and stared at the instruments they held in their hands.