by CA Morgan
“Yes, very much,” he answered with a smooth lie. For a man this was paradise, but for these women it was hell.
“Then I’m pleased,” Hofa said bowing. Eris cringed. He barely tolerated this man’s abject subservience, much less his voice, which was that of a child.
A shocked squeal startled Eris and he spun around to find all of his companions huddled together in a tight circle. They were hugging each other oddly with their bound wrists and several of them were crying again.
“What’s the matter?” Eris asked. If things weren’t bad enough already, this constant whimpering was wearing on his patience.
“They want to undress us,” said one girl, whose voice matched the squeal. “And stare at us, and touch us with their fat hands.”
“It is only a part of our job,” Hofa said kindly. “Look, over there. Those women are being helped to dress, and there are women servants as well to help, but they are busy with the breakfast at the moment. We only do as Maissa instructs and we’ll all be in trouble if she finds all of you still standing here when she arrives.”
Eris understood their reluctance. The idea of Raga looking him up and down still gave him an uneasy feeling. But unlike Raga, these half men were quite harmless in the end, or so he hoped.
“Why don’t you begin with me,” Eris suggested.
Hofa turned to him with a surprised look.
“We have a curtained off room for you. It’s not proper for the Sultan’s wife to change with the rest of the concubines,” he explained.
“However, I’m not yet his wife,” Eris argued. “Begin with me. I can bear no more of their whimpering.”
Hofa and the other eunuchs looked nervously at each other as even the smallest deviation from the Sultan’s commands could bring death, or at the least, a severe whipping. Hofa surveyed the room quickly. He nodded for one of the others to watch the door in case Maissa was close.
“As you wish,” Hofa whispered. He quickly stripped Eris of his few garments and one of the other eunuchs took the bright bundle of fabric to the bench in the changing room. The golden snake bands were the only things he had left of his costume and those simply because they couldn’t be removed over the manacles.
“You may enter the water now,” Hofa said with a bow and a sweep of his hand.
Eris nodded to him and descended the slick marble steps into the clear, cool water that looked almost black for that lack of stronger lighting.
The water felt soothing, relaxing as it flowed around his limbs rinsing away the dust and fatigue of the day before. He kicked himself under the water and floated there listing to the gently pounding echo of the waterfall. He held his breath as long as he could, reveling in the aloneness it made him feel. It was probably the only way one could feel alone in a place like this and it suited him. He floated slowly back to the surface, breathed, and sank again into the cool darkness.
He let his mind drift not thinking of anything in particular when he saw the silver path of the mind-bond glowing like phosphorous in the darkness around him. He wondered if the sorcerer was awake.
“I’m awake.” Raga responded to Eris’ gentle probe. “What are you doing?”
“I couldn’t explain it to you if I tried. Can I send you an image, or picture, of some kind?
“Some can, some can’t. You can try.”
“Then I’ll try.” Eris returned to the surface and rolled onto his back to float. He breathed slowly and recalled the splendor around him.
“You are still alive aren’t you?” Raga asked, seeing the images quite clearly. Considering all of the other oddities with magic and Eris, he wasn’t surprised by the images.
“Unfortunately, I am.”
“At least we don’t have to worry about you changing back any time soon. What you’ve seen this morning could keep you as Erisa for the rest of your life.” Raga laughed.
“Don’t remind me. This place may be beautiful, but its perversions run deep.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Let’s just say I’ll add it to my growing knowledge of the female world that I never realized or knew before. One day I’ll tell you when I’m far away from here. It’s bad enough I have to be here at all. I think someone is coming close.” Eris felt a rippling in the water around him.
“Erisa,” said a pensive voice as a hand gently touched his shoulder.
Eris opened his eyes and came to his feet. He was surprised to see the same girl he had tried to help on the steps. In all the confusion, he hadn’t remembered her being chosen.
“Yes,” Eris said.
The girl looked over her shoulder, then back to him.
“Perhaps I am not allowed to talk to you, but I wanted to thank you for your help yesterday. You were very brave to help me. I hope your master didn’t beat you too severely. Mine would have killed me had I done such a thing,” she said.
“Don’t think it didn’t cross his mind,” Eris laughed. “What’s your name?”
“Pashtine,” she answered. “I wish I had the confidence and courage you have, but I’m always afraid of something it seems. I’m just glad I wasn’t chosen for his wife. I would have been even more afraid.”
“Why?”
“Haven’t you heard the rumors about his other wives? They say he’s already had ten.”
“Only seven.”
“That’s just as bad. Aren’t you afraid of being remembered only as number eight?” she asked. Her eyes were full of concern and she bit her bottom lip.
Eris hardly knew what to answer. His stay was only temporary and he didn’t want to frighten the girl even more with his own fears at the thought of being a prisoner for the rest of his life. Then again, a life here where she might be ignored for long periods of time over being beaten by her master and future masters, it would be a hard decision of two difficult choices.
“I really don’t know what to say, Pashtine. I have taken many chances in my life and this is simply another. Perhaps I don’t fear death and what lies beyond as others do, so I am not afraid,” Eris said with a shrug.
“And what of the Sultan? Are you afraid of him?” she asked in a small voice.
“No, I’m—“ Eris paused and looked more closely at her. She was biting her lip all the more and her face was flushed and confused. “I think, perhaps, I don’t understand what fear you mean.”
“I fear for the time he asks for me. I don’t know what to do. If I do something wrong, he could have me whipped. Or worse, killed,” she whispered and clasped her hands tightly together.
Eris felt suddenly taken aback. This conversation had taken a turn that he couldn’t even think to comment on. He had long ago forgotten what it was like to be innocent in the ways of men and women.
Seeing Eris’ apparent confusion and hesitation, Pashtine asked, “Then you are afraid, too? You don’t know what to do either.”
Eris felt like laughing. He knew enough to fill a scroll and then some. However, he was sure he couldn’t explain it delicately enough for the young girl, nor would he be able to give a plausible explanation to the Sultan should he find out his new bride was something less than a virgin.
“There isn’t much I can tell you, Pashtine, but you shouldn’t be afraid.”
“Perhaps you don’t want to tell me?” she suggested.
Eris shook his head.
“Believe me, I would tell you anything I could. I just have ideas and they may not be correct. I did have four brothers after all,” Eris lied with a shrug. “I am sure Maissa will teach us all we need to know to stay out of trouble.”
Pashtine seemed appeased for the time being and sank to her chin in the water.
“I know I’m just being foolish,” she said and Eris was sure she blushed again. “The Sultan wants maids, I’m sure. We can’t be expected to know these things.”
“Of course not,” Eris agreed. He wondered how many other intimate conversations such as this he would have to side-step out of. Why did women always have to clutter their minds
with such worries? Or worry so much about what they wore, how they looked and who said what to whom?
Eris smiled kindly at Pashtine and swam the length of the pool with her; rather, as well as they were able with their bound wrists.
Coming back to the center of the pool, Eris stopped to watch the girl he saw dive earlier dive again.
“She is very lovely. Very graceful,” Eris commented.
“Oh, I don’t think so,” Pashtine said sounding resentful. Eris was surprised by her sudden change in voice. “She is much too tall. It throws off her balance.”
“She can’t be any taller than I.”
“I know, but I watched you dance. You could dive much better. And you are much more beautiful than she could ever be. More beautiful than any in the Sultan’s harem.” Her voice was sweet again as she reached over to untangle a strand of hair that had wrapped itself around Eris’ neck.
Once again Eris felt confused and lost in the rapidly swirling pool of Pashtine’s fluctuating emotions. It was times like this that he wished that at least half of his brain had changed into the mind of a woman so he could understand what was happening. It sounded to him like jealousy, but for what reason?
“Perhaps you could think of me as you do her,” Pashtine said as they swam back to the steps. “Then I could serve you forever.”
Now Eris understood her jealous concern. Being the chosen wife would, of course, mean that he would have many servants, and Pashtine, who seemed to cling to him for whatever support he could offer, wanted to be included in that special group. She was much too young to be here and Eris felt sorry for her. There was nothing he could do for her.
“Perhaps I’ll see you later,” Pashtine said as Eris stepped up the steps into the enveloping folds of a soft towel that Tivar held open for him.
“I’m sure we shall, Pashtine, and try not to be afraid. Everything will be as is best, not to worry,” Eris said and surprised himself with his sincerity. He bent over and brushed his hand against her cheek and gave her a bit of a smile.
While the words might have sounded sincere, he doubted there was any truth in them. Nothing in this place was for the best, but then, why should he care. He could change none of it, and in a few days at most, all of Reshan and its people would be a memory best forgotten.
“Where are we going, Tivar?” Eris asked, turning back to her.
“To your room. There, I’ll give you a massage with perfumed oils and then we’ll find something very beautiful for you to wear,” Tivar answered.
“What about the others?”
“Maissa will take them to the other rooms to dress and she will instruct them in the ways of our life here, and how to please the Sultan.”
“Then I will join them?”
“No, my Lady, the Sultan will teach you what he wishes you to know,” Tivar answered.
“I see,” Eris said and wondered just what the Sultan might be able to teach him. An unexpected shiver rippled up his back and unease settled in his stomach. He forced himself to think of the jewel and a plan for getting out of this place at the first opportunity.
It was dusk when Eris rolled over and awoke from an afternoon nap that Tivar had suggested. He got to his feet and walked around the large, opulently furnished room they had put him in. Never in all his life, not even in the great stone keep of his own country, had he seen a room filled with so many precious things simply for one person’s enjoyment.
He paused by the room’s only window. He found it was very narrow, and the sight of black iron bars embedded in the stone about half the distance between inside and out, raised his ire. This wasn’t a home, but a prison. From the outside, he had not been able to see the bars and hoped they would not become an obstacle to his escape.
He tried to see any familiar landmark beyond the palace walls, anything that might give him an indication of where he was. The waning light and restricted view allowed him to see very little.
He felt restless and uneasy. He paced the room several times before taking a purple plum from a golden platter and sat down on the edge of the bed to eat it.
“This preoccupation with chains is the most ludicrous thing I’ve ever seen. No one can get out of these rooms anyway,” Eris mumbled. He felt foolish having to raise both hands to his face to simply eat a small piece of fruit. He tossed the pit onto the table where it bounced and clattered into the platter. He sighed. He was bored and looked around for something else to do.
He thought about traveling up and down the length of the mind-bond between himself and Raga, as he had done earlier in the afternoon, in the hope of uncovering a few more of its subtle nuances. He decided against that as it had left him with a bit of a headache, which the nap had thankfully alleviated.
The golden chain in his lap finally drew his attention. He studied the links and found that they didn’t seem to be forged with the idea of real restraint, at least in his warrior’s opinion, but rather had some symbolic use.
“Well, this might give me amusement,” he said as he raised his wrists to chest level.
He stared at the links with a sort of concentration, then took a deep breath and pulled. A very unladylike grunt escaped his lips, but he felt a slight give in one of the links. He released the pressure and breathed deeply to catch his breath. Only the gods knew how many times in recent years he had forced himself out of bondage much to the surprise and horror of his captors.
Again he took a deep breath and pulled at the chain. His face turned red and he gasped for air determined not to let up until the chain broke apart. His eyes scrunched shut and willed the strength of Eris into Erisa.
“Erisa! No!”
Tivar’s frightened voice rang out across the room as the chain snapped apart.
Eris fell over sideways on the bed catching himself with his elbow. He breathed heavily for his exertion and his heart raced for the unexpectedness of Tivar’s shout. His wild green eyes narrowed as he saw Tivar, followed by Maissa and Hofa quickly entering the room.
“Hofa, the door! Quickly!” Maissa ordered suddenly flustered and concerned. “Let us hope the Sultan is merciful,” she muttered coming toward Eris.
“Is it a crime to want a little dignity in this pampered hell?” Eris demanded unwisely as his temper got the best of him.
“Poor child,” Maissa mumbled pressing her hands together as she looked back to see if the door was closed.
“Let me see if I can repair the damage,” Tivar suggested. She knelt in front of Eris and examined the ends of the chain.
Both women seemed to ignore Eris’ outburst, but Hofa looked pensive. Eris wondered if it was his responsibility to tell the Sultan of his indiscretions, which seemed to be piling up fast.
“We won’t be able to fix the chain well enough to deceive his Excellency,” Tivar said, then sat down with a sigh on the bed next to Eris. “Why did you do it, my Lady?”
“Why? Wouldn’t you do the same?” Eris said looking at her and then at Maissa, but neither of them spoke. “For a night and a day I have been chained like an animal. I can’t dress myself, feed myself, nor sleep comfortably. How many reasons do you need? If the Sultan would treat his wife in such a manner, then how much worse does he treat you?”
Maissa gave him a comforting smile and sat down opposite Tivar.
“It’s not such a bad life, Erisa,” she said taking his hands in hers. “In time you will come to enjoy it. We have beautiful clothes, we don’t have to work and scrounge in meager gardens simply to eat. We lead a life that other women would gladly trade their lives for.”
Eris would have argued, but what was the use? Perhaps they were right in some unfathomable way. His female form in no way gave him all the insight he needed to understand their way of thinking. Seeing and hearing what he had already made him not want to understand further. He only wanted an open road before him and a sturdy sword in hand.
“Excuse me,” Hofa interrupted quietly. “We mustn’t be too late, or his Excellency will be further annoyed.”
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“Too late for what?” Eris asked. That same prick of unease came over him. Surely they wouldn’t be performing the ceremony tonight without having informed him sooner.
“The Sultan desires you for his bed,” Tivar answered.
“What!” Eris exclaimed in a voice much too forceful. He glared at Hofa, who was beginning to make preparations.
Eris’ mind recoiled with such intensity at what they were proposing that Raga was startled from his bored doze. Not knowing if it was dream, or just someone shouting down in the streets, he drifted back to sleep.
“Now, child, don’t be afraid,” Maissa comforted, as she wrapped her heavy arm around his shoulder. “We have all survived his Excellency’s attentions.”
“But…but what about the ceremony?” Eris said, and felt at a loss for what to do. Erisa clouded his judgment and his thoughts were not as clear. His mouth went dry and he struggled to find a way out of the predicament. He was a man and the thought of another touching him in that way was revolting. It disgusted him and turned his stomach more than the gore of battle.
“The Sultan has changed his mind about a formal ceremony until after you have borne him a son,” Tivar explained quietly. She led Eris insistently by the hand to a small stool and forced him to sit. Her brush smoothed his raven tresses and she began to braid the length of it. “It seems he has grown weary of the formality, and believes that it somehow jinxes his ability to have a son. You will be his Sultana by his word only. Should your child be a boy, only then, will you be legally recognized.”
“When did he decide all of this?” Eris asked. He seethed with anger and vowed to avenge himself on Raga for having deceived him again.
“Apparently only this morning on the advice of his augur. It seems the divination, which the Sultan always requests, was something quite extraordinary. The whole palace is talking about it,” Tivar explained, as she wrapped the long braid into a coil on the top of his head. She placed a golden circlet around it to hold it in place.
“I can’t believe this is happening,” Eris muttered.
“Do you not believe in omens, Erisa?” Maissa asked, laying out a new outfit for him to put on. “Tivar speaks the truth.”