The traffic slowed and congested as we reached the massive, ornate wooden gates of the city. A commander of the guard maintained a professional watch on his men and they in turn on the traffic entering the city. My companions and I were easily cleared as they were well known by the Sekers on duty. Ctesias was taunted good naturedly by the men concerning a tavern named the Four Feathers.
Taslea had been laid out by a madman. The city possessed no single main thoroughfare much beyond the main entrance and the streets thereafter meandered apparently at random. There were plazas of various sizes with centered fountains irregularly situated. There were trees and sculpted shrubbery. Particularly appealing were verdant tresses streaming down from balconies and windows. The haphazard street pattern seemed out of character for a city so well-maintained and clean but cleanliness was not necessarily related to order.
After crossing through the main gates and entering the city proper, I observed that the tallest buildings were tightly clustered at the city’s center. These were single towers rising like medieval turrets into the sky. Within the walls it was a lovely city, with trees, shrubs and flowers.
I realized later that walls cut the city into four parts, to make it more defendable in the event an enemy surmounted the outer wall. The partitioning inner walls were so interwoven with the buildings and pierced by arches I did not at first recognize them. One in fact served as the interior aqueduct.
Shops lined the side streets, each bearing the distinctive coloring and patterns of its Guild. Adults also wore clothing or trappings establishing their occupation. It made for a gaudy, nearly carnival atmosphere, particularity as these Tasleans were a vocal, boisterous, and argumentative bunch – at least when bartering in public. Petty bickering and minor feuds of every imaginable kind were daily occurrences, I learned, each being resolved, if necessary, through endless meetings of the Guilds or Council of the Guilds.
The Caste structure and the Guilds of the Low Caste dominated Taslean life, giving it an order and a degree of concord. Inefficient often inequitable, the system had evolved over a thousand years of necessity and continued because it worked. Tasleans, indeed I was to learn all Doridians, were intensely and passionately proud of their heritage and change usually occurred slowly and reluctantly. It worked. What better comment could one make concerning any society?
A two Caste system might exist but I saw no unwillingness for the two not to mingle – at least in the market place. Sedan chairs, carried aloft by slaves, paths cleared through the crowd by burly Sekers, were intermixed with the poor out to make their daily purchases of bread and goods. Intermingled within the crowd were hawkers and vendors of sweetmeats, fruits, bread, trinkets and ornaments of all types. Some acrobats were setting up for business at the busiest intersections. It was going to be quite a day, but then I learned all of the days were in Taslea.
Ctesias and Koptos stopped against a cart huddled in conversation. Ctesias was adamant about something and at last Koptos relented. “Come here,” Ctesias called to me. “Listen, what would you say to a nice stout cup? You being from a strange city and all, you could probably use a little. There’s this place I’ve got in mind with the best looking slaves in the city. We thought we’d buy you a drink and sort of welcome you into the good Urak’s service.”
“This place you have in mind, it wouldn’t be called the Four Feathers by chance, would it?” I inquired with wide eyed innocence, recalling the exchange with the Sekers at the gate earlier.
Ctesias did not realize I had overheard the conversation. “You know of it?” he stammered.
“Oh yes. Even in my far off city, we have heard of the Four Feathers of Taslea. It is said to have the most beautiful slaves in the city.”
“It does, it does!” Ctesias agreed quickly. Only then did he see Koptos grinning behind him and realized that I was playing with him.
Koptos clapped me on the back good naturedly and said, “Then we’re off to drink to beautiful slaves.”
The tavern, conveniently located nearby, possessed an unobtrusive doorway that led into a darkened interior. One or two slave girls squealed in joy as they spotted my companions. Standing within, I found it hard to believe that it was still early in the morning. The place was already doing a brisk business. I saw scattered low lying tables, stretched roughly into a semi- circle before an open, slightly elevated area intended for entertainment.
There were a dozen lovely, young slaves present, three or four laboring in work tunics, the remainder loitering about dressed, or rather undressed, and serving the early morning customers. Their clothing or rather costumes, I noticed with pleasure, consisted of very little other than straps for holding large feathers or several patterns consisting of small feathers. These varied from large plumes of subdued coloring to small brightly colored arrangements in rather ingenious locations. The designs were intended to draw one’s eye to the girl’s anatomy and nothing desirable to look upon was concealed.
As was the case with all slaves I had seen thus far, these wore collars and were barefoot. My collar had been a length of iron hammered about my neck while these wore snug fitting, narrow bands of fine metal, possibly silver, with decorative designs on them and small semi- precious stones. The collars resembled jewelry more than anything but then, I supposed, a slave collar was a slave collar regardless of its beauty.
The three of us occupied a low circular table and sat on stools. Several giggling slaves brought a pitcher with three goblets for us. Koptos and Ctesias immediately emptied a full cub each. I sipped mine cautiously and was relieved that I had. I suspected my two companions had done a great deal of drinking at these hours in the past to toss off a goblet full of the strong drink with such ease.
“Drink quickly, newcomer,” Koptos urged. “We have little time to spare. Tonak, the Master of Arms, will be expecting us shortly and mark my words, it does not do to be late.”
“Then why are we drinking in a tavern? Let’s get going,” I replied.
“‘Why?’ you ask,” said Ctesias his arm about a slender, radiant girl. “Why for beautiful slaves and fine wine. It does not do a man good to go long without either. Are they not beautiful?”
The women, hardly more than girls, were the loveliest creatures I had ever beheld, amazingly sensuous, feminine and feline- like. None was overweight or excessively thin and all were nicely proportioned with smooth, satiny skin. It was, however, their infectious good humor and enthusiasm that appealed to me the most.
We were surrounded by four or five lovely women in all and Ctesias hurriedly finished off the pitcher almost singlehandedly, laughing and teasing with the slaves as he did. I supposed that so many waited on us because there were so few patrons and so many slave girls.
I was mistaken.
Ctesias, his drinking finished, lined up his three most ardent pursuers and with some theatrics, finally selected a robust, lively slave with a great flowing plume, carefully arranged so as not to conceal any part of her figure. She squealed with delight at being selected and the two losers both pouted before coming over to Koptos and myself.
Ctesias patted them on their bare rumps and promised his attention next time after which he hurried off to the rear of the tavern where he entered an alcove with his companion, pulling a heavy blue curtain behind them.
Koptos was less a showman than Ctesias and merely took the hand of the smallest of the remaining slaves. She laughed and playfully tugged at his arm as they too went to an alcove in the rear.
The remaining slaves faced me.
Based on what I had seen, I was apparently expected to make a selection and trot off to the nearest alcove. My companions had been motivated not entirely by thirst for wine in coming to this place, it seemed. The slaves, I learned, were as much a part of routine business as the selling of wine. The women were included in the price of each pitcher or for a small charge, depending on the patrons needs.
“Please, master, select me,” they all cried. The rules I learned forbade them to touch me
uninvited although each did her best to make herself as desirable as possible. They succeeded very well.
“I... I really don’t ... I mean ... well, not now. Thanks anyway, maybe later.”
The slaves left reluctantly returning to their duties.
I was to learn that in this new land, women such as these accepted their collar without struggle. It was for this reason, as well as the exquisite beauty that they had been selected for tavern work. From their point of view it was a desirable place to be a slave. It was vastly superior to field work or ownership in most commercial enterprises. Being slaves they thought nothing of performing sexually on demand.
These slaves received favorable treatment from their owner based upon their popularity with the customers, popular slaves attracting more patrons and being therefore more profitable. Light duty was preferable to dirty duty in the worst taverns and that was where the unattractive, unskilled and less enthusiastic soon found themselves.
I scanned the tavern. A sky light provided streams of sunlight into the darkened wooden interior. Much of the exposed woodwork had been carved into clever, obscene figurines, setting a most appropriate atmosphere, I thought.
“Greetings,” the burly owner said. A large, robust, bearded man, I suspected he served as his own bouncer.
“Greetings,” I replied.
“Have any of my slaves perhaps offended you in some way?” he inquired respectfully.
“No, not at all,” I said. “I just do not desire a woman right now, even one as beautiful as these.”
“I see. Well, please return. You will find them not only lovely but very accomplished in the alcoves as well, and even more importantly they take to their condition as fish to water. I have personally selected them and that is why this is the finest tavern in all Taslea.
“I am certain I will be well pleased,” I said, “and I shall return, perhaps with my two companions.”
“Ah yes, Ctesias and Koptos. They are the reason I inquired of you. I have never known them or their associates to decline an opportunity to lay with a slave. If they are your friends, no doubt, I will see you often.” He laughed heartily as he returned to his place.
Koptos quit his cubical first and strode to the alcove occupied by Ctesias. “Come on,” he shouted through the curtain. “Let’s go. You know what the Master of Arms told us the last time we were tardy. Let’s go. We’ll come back tonight.”
Shortly, the two of them joined me with an obscene comment or two and we departed for the Urak Rahdon’s extensive city residence. My companions and I pushed through the crowded streets and in a short time arrived at a side entrance of our destination.
A wall or side of the complex faced all the streets, completely surrounding the residence like a small fortress. This consisted of the Urak’s private quarters, slave quarters, Seker billets, training area, gymnasium and other necessary rooms and quarters.
“Hurry,” Koptos urged as we entered the doorway. “I fear we are late.”
4. I TRAIN TO BE A SEKER
“Faster!” the trainer shouted. Already three men had received vicious blows to the head and lay in the sand of the training arena.
I had worked in this, the third training session of the day, for over two hours and I was exhausted. Never in all my life had I labored as hard and concentrated with such intensity. My blistered, reddened hands gripped the wood exercise sword. My shins had been struck soundly and often. I had survived this session thus far without receiving a blow to my head but had not been as fortunate in earlier sessions and had no intention of letting it happen again. Unfortunately, I was tiring quickly and already the pace was faster than any I had faced heretofore.
“Faster! Faster,” Tonak shouted. The post whirled at an ever quickening speed.
The men with me called it the Wooden Slave Girl. Essentially, it was a wooden post mounted so that it could be spun at a controlled speed. Drilled into the post were numerous holes into which a wide assortment of protruding, thick rods could be screwed; hence, the contraption’s name. The rods stuck straight out from the pole and were altered every session so you couldn’t adjust to them. The trainee stood beside the post within range of the rods and then jumped over them or ducked as the post was turned rapidly.
For now, I faced two of the rods protruding from the Wooden Slave Girl. One was placed quite low to the ground and alone would have been relatively easy to hurdle. The speed of the post was not constant, however, and so even the lowest rod could not be taken for granted.
The second rod was mounted at about chest height. This rod followed the first quite quickly and required that I duck even as I landed from jumping over the first. As I said, the speed was constantly varied, causing the exercise to be demanding and exhausting.
Matters were complicated further by the fact that, for this third training period, we all wore full equipment; helmets, breastplates and carried both mockup swords and spears.
I was exhausted but determined to outlast the slaves who powered the post or, failing that, go until I dropped. These Doridians admired tenacity and prowess. I had no desire to become a farm laborer. The exercise continued at full speed. My thighs and lower back throbbed. Sweat streamed into my eyes and I couldn’t see anymore. I was just about done in.
“Stop!”
I was still up, swaying on my feet.
“Not bad, newcomer,” Tonak growled without a trace of complement in his tone. “Let’s see how you do with another rod.” He smiled as a male slave quickly screwed a third rod into the post. It was inserted waist high, just past the second rod.
My mind was numb. I could think of no way of avoiding it. “Start!” the trainer barked. The post resumed at full speed. I jumped the first rod, ducked under the second and, watching the third rush toward me, continued lowering my head to go under it as well.
The rod struck me solidly in the middle of my helmet and, despite it, knocked me senseless.
###
Earlier that day, Ctesias and Koptos had attempted to join the first training period and avoid the Master of Arms altogether. Dodging the man sounded like a full time job for the pair. I had no equipment when we arrived and was uncertain what I should do if they succeeded. The Master of Arms solved my dilemma by cornering the three of us before we reached the training arena.
“Oh no,” Ctesias muttered under his breath.
“Late again, huh. I told you two what would happen the next time. Apparently you didn’t believe me,” he sneered. The Master of Arms seemed chiseled in marble, his many years’ experience carved into his weathered face. He wore a cropped graying beard and took us in with piercing black eyes. “It’s bad enough you two persist in your slovenly habits,” he growled, “but I see already you are trying to contaminate our new trainee. Very well then. Your training is extended eight days and you will attend the fourth period each night for the next five. Maybe that will teach you two punctuality, respect for discipline and put an end to your slothful habits.”
Ctesias and Koptos were dismayed but never uttered a word, not that one would have been allowed. They left at once for the training ground.
“You, I take it, are Hunter?” It sounded more like an accusation than a question.
“Yes, Master of Arms.” If he was trying to scare me he was doing a good job of it.
“Well, you are certainly big enough to be a Seker.” He must have taken the Dale Carnegie course. Always precede a criticism with a compliment. “We’ll put some muscle on you though and teach you your trade.”
I stood just under six and a half feet tall and at that time weighed two hundred pounds.
“I hear you are a newcomer to Taslea. Well, Urak Rahdon is a fine man and as far as I am concerned he is as loyal to the city as any can be, but I don’t hold with taking in newcomers from outside Taslea. A new trainee should possess proper letters of recommendation. I know some Houses insist that nothing buys loyalty like gold and accordingly obtain outsiders to do their bidding. I’ll have no part of mercenaries
or outlaws. I prefer a man already tested and proven loyal to Taslea and to the Seker code, but if the Urak says to train you and take you in, then I will – but I’ll keep an eye on you. And stay away from those two you arrived with. They are good fighters but given to slovenliness. They’ll get you in trouble if you let them.”
With that I was issued training equipment. The armor was real enough, if somewhat worn. But all of the weapons were wooden substitutes. This was intended to keep us from killing one another accidentally. I didn’t object. As far as I was concerned, the longer it took to get to the real thing, the better.
Training proceeded each day with three periods of about four hours each. The first occupied the very early morning and was followed by a break of about one hour. The second began well before midday and lasted until early afternoon. A light lunch was served following it and the third period began one hour later.
The main meal of the day was served at dusk or shortly thereafter. A fourth training period was available if desired afterwards. It was usually assigned as punishment. Otherwise, trainees took to the baths during the evening period for rubdowns or a light work out with weights, if they couldn’t leave the residence.
Slaves were abundant throughout the spacious complex and attended to the mundane tasks even for trainees such as myself as we were after all free men. Each Seker or trainee had his own small cubicle with a curtain doorway. Most of the slaves were women and the men had ready access to them once the slave’s household duties were completed, usually an hour or so following the evening meal.
I decided to pass on the extra-curricular activities. Just keeping body and soul together, followed by plenty of rest, was a full time job. Besides, forcing a slave didn’t seem natural. I had never been into compulsory sex.
Hunter: Warrior of Doridia (The Saga of Jon Hunter Book 1) Page 4