THE TAMING OF JAELLE'N

by Deidre O'Dare

  The fat man banged his fist upon the table. "No! Only the man who buys her may see all she brings to him. This is a virgin princess! Common eyes must not soil her." There were grumbles, but the crowd subsided when the fat man glowered around, as if noting any who stirred a disturbance.

  Jaelle'n knew now the sound of the golden man's voice. Though deep, it had the tone of a bronze bell, rich and musical. From behind her, she heard him call his bid. "5,000 rajans."

  "5,500," that from off to her right in the thick-toned voice of a local merchant.

  "6,000," the golden man said.

  "6,200," the Challabadan wheezed. He licked his lips, his eyes fixed on her nipples, clearly exposed by the thin, damp cloth stretched across them.

  "7,500." The golden man again, confident and strong-voiced.

  The obese auctioneer glanced to the merchant who stood by the edge of the dais, all but slavering as he gazed at her.

  "I have no more to bid, Your Excellence," the merchant muttered sheepishly. "I cannot best that of Aguilar."

  And so, one of the small dark men who made up the golden man's retinue came to the block and caught the short chain on Jaelle'n's wristband with one hand, nonchalant and confident as he led her off the dais. Horror and shock built a cold knot low in her belly as they circled through the gaping crowd.

  Sold. To the golden man who had looked at me with such arrogant assurance. Who had said we could be trained as pleasure slaves--in less time than it has taken for me to travel from the site of my capture on the inland sea between Cymrydda and Dylantha to here, to the block of Challabah.

  Numb with dismay, she no longer fought not to stumble nor did she care how she appeared. The unthinkable had happened and Princess Jaelle'n was no more.

  Through veiled eyes, she saw the golden man watch as his man led her to him, an enigmatic half-smile on his chiseled lips, an expression perhaps not unkind in his opaque eyes. He lifted his hand in a slight gesture, causing the one who led her to stop. Jaelle'n looked past him, not daring to meet his jewel-bright gaze. He caught her chin in his fingers, the touch light but firm. He raised her head and turned her to face him directly.

  "You will not be brutalized, Cymryddana, at least not while you remain in my care. I see in your visage the marks of hunger and thirst, the ravages of ill treatment. That will be done no more. You will soon have food and drink, and the rest you need. I, Aguilar of Iskandera, guarantee it."

  "And I am to trust you, a man who buys human flesh as one would a horse, an ox, a hound for hunting or a lapdog for your leman?" Even weary and despondent, Jaelle'n could not resist tossing a verbal barb at her new owner.

  "I have no leman," he said, his expression hardening. "But I buy and sell what I choose, how and when I choose, also. You can take my word or not--as you choose. If you want to fear or doubt me, nothing I can say will change your mind."

  He dropped his hand from her face as if the touch burned him. "Cragen, take her to the last place and chain her. You may bring water to all of the women. They have been without since midmorn and the day is hot."

  His words held a chill of finality, a shadow of doom. Jaelle'n bowed her head and followed obediently to her spot, the last on the golden man's chain. Inger threw a sly glance over her shoulder and murmured a phrase in her guttural northern tongue. "Not so high and mighty now, are ye, princess?"

  Behind Inger and the one Jaelle'n called The Acrobat, the barbarian girl slumped, clutching her injured side with her left arm, for only the right was locked to the chain. She sobbed quietly, ignoring everything around her. Parted from one sister and probably the other as well, she would be alone, something unthinkable in her society where women were always together in family groups.

  Jaelle'n felt a reluctant stir of pity. She, too, would be alone, but that was not a strange situation to her. There were no other females of her rank in Cymrydda and her waiting maids and the daughters of her father's war leaders and advisors had never seemed true friends. Perhaps she would befriend the dark girl once they had all been bathed and fed. Who knew, perhaps among her wild folk, she, too, was of royal blood. Jaelle'n could even sympathize with the girl's need to howl in her pain.

  Too exhausted to stand, Jaelle'n lowered her body to the stones, leaning against the wall that cast a comforting shade over them. When the one called Cragen returned with a bucket of water and a battered cup, she drank, letting the lukewarm liquid soothe her burning throat and moisten her parched lips. The water had the flavor of dust and green scum, but it was wet and she was grateful to have it. What she would give for a clear, chill pool in which to immerse her sunburned body, the ready water that flowed cold and sweet from the spring over which her father's fortress had been built. But all of that was lost to her forever...

  Chapter 2

  In The House Of Aguilar

  * * *

  Darkness had fallen before the coffle of Aguilar reached its destination. He allowed them to go slowly, showing no signs of impatience when they lagged, and had finally ordered Cragen and another of his men to carry the barbarian girl after she fell repeatedly. Jaelle'n managed not to fall, more by sheer determination than anything else.

  After they entered a walled compound through a wide gateway, the huge iron gates clanged shut behind them. Inside they found a small oasis of green grass. A fountain splashed in the center, more heard than seen, while roses and other flowers Jaelle'n did not know sweetened the air with their perfumes.

  The women--nineteen of them now--stopped. Cragen went down the row and one by one unlocked them from the chain. Aguilar stood to one side and watched, saying nothing, but observing all.

  From beneath her lashes, Jaelle'n glowered at him. He's too beautiful to be a true man. He is probably one who loves other men instead of women or perhaps, given his strange color, he is not human at all.

  Jaelle'n felt his gaze on her, but she ignored him. When all the women were released, he spoke. "Come closer, in a circle here so that I may speak to all of you at once. Are there any who do not understand my words?"

  His voice was clear and melodious, deep but not harsh in tone. Again Jaelle'n thought of the sound of a heavy bell, like the one in her father's keep that tolled for urgent gatherings. After the noise of the auction, the harsh voices of the slavers and the whines and curses of the other women, it fell on Jaelle'n's ears like a soft rain on the parched land. Everyone hastening to obey, the women gathered in a ring around him. When they settled, he spoke again.

  "In a moment, I will show you where your rooms are. There are enough chambers that each may have her own if she desires, although if some of you choose to share, that is permitted. You will go to the bathing room first and my maidservants will help you wash, then provide clean garments. After that, you will go to your chambers and find food and drink there.

  "You will not be chained or restrained, but I warn you there is no way out of this compound save the gate through which we have entered. It is locked and guarded at all times. Do not attempt to escape. At night, hungry lions and hounds roam at large beyond these walls. By day, you would be seen before you could go a league from this place, for there is nothing outside but white sand from here to the city. After you have rested, you will begin your training. Unless you prove stupid or rebellious, it will not be harsh. If you learn well, you will be placed with kindly masters who will cherish you for your skills. You are more fortunate than most that are taken captive. Be grateful for your good luck."

  With that, he turned and walked briskly away. After a moment, the women all trooped after him, crossing the courtyard to enter a long hall where clean airy rooms opened off both sides. At the end of the hall, they came to a bath. Inside, a dozen young women waited with soaps and towels, brushes and combs, jugs of oils and perfumes. A long pool of sparkling water extended down the center of the room, beckoning them to submerge in its soothing depths.

  Jaelle'n let out a long sigh. A dream come true, a prayer answered. For the moment she would forget her changed status.


  She tugged the filthy tunic over her head and dropped it to the floor. Without hesitation, she walked to the closest end of the pool and found steps leading into the water. Although she had to force her weary legs, she made her way down until her feet found the smooth bottom. Then she waded forward into deepening water until the level reached her shoulders. The water was strangely buoyant. She lay back in its embrace and let the gentle lapping wash over her. The cool touch on her parched, tender skin felt like heaven's balm.

  After she had relaxed a short while, Jaelle'n lifted her head and looked around. When she indicated her readiness, two of the maids hurried to her side. They began to bathe her and wash her hair. From the behavior of some of the other women when maids approached them, they were clearly not used to such attention.

  Inger doubled her fist and sent the maid who came to attend her splashing through the water. "I wash myself, pervert!" she shrieked. "No other woman will touch my body!" The barbarian girl clawed and spit, even though still favoring her bruised side.

  Jaelle'n had a hard time understanding the swarthy girl's strange dialect, but her meaning was quite clear. She might swim but she saw no purpose in washing! The rest of the women finally gave in with varying degrees of ill grace, but Jaelle'n noted that many of them showed signs of pleasure before the process was complete.

  Once Jaelle'n's body had been scrubbed until her skin glowed and her hair was so clean it squeaked when rubbed, the two maids attending her indicated she should get out of the pool. When she stood on the edge, naked and dripping, one brought a huge fluffy cloth and began to pat her dry. As soon as that was done, the other began to rub soothing oil into her sunburned skin. Accustomed to such attentions, Jaelle'n saw no cause for distress in the ministrations of the two. Their touches were gentle but impersonal, yet every move they made revealed their skill at the tasks.

  Finally, one scurried off, returning with a thin but voluminous robe of some airy soft fabric, which she held for Jaelle'n to don. Then the maids indicated she should be seated on a hassock. They began to comb her hair, gently working the tangles free and smoothing the shining length of it. Again, their speech was difficult for her to decipher, but she sensed her fire-hued tresses amazed them.

  Ah, this is much better. Perhaps the golden man, Aguilar, recognizes that I am not a common person and is prepared to treat me with the respect and deference due my rank. That seemed almost too much to hope for, but she clung to the notion, anyway.

  Once Jaelle'n selected a room, on the right side of the corridor nearest the bath, her attendants provided food and drink--a tall ewer of cool, sweetly fruity liquid and a platter of dainty tidbits, some strange but all appealing to her palate.

  If she must endure captivity, at least this was more pleasant than staggering along on the coffle, sleeping on bare ground and eating scraps not fit for a dog. She would see what the morrow brought, and do what she must to ensure she was treated properly. The notion that pleasure slaves would not be expected to endure primitive, harsh conditions niggled in the back of her mind, but she shoved aside the worry.

  The low bed beckoned, laden with soft pillows and spread with silken coverlets. Casting aside the robe, Jaelle'n blew out the little lamp and lay down to rest, the bedding cool and soothing against her skin. She slid quickly into a deep sleep, one unbroken by rude sounds, miserable discomforts or the constant fear of rape or injury that she had endured the past four ten-days.

  * * * *

  Morning came early. Jaelle'n woke to the melodious sound of birds singing outside the high, narrow windows of her room. Their sweet trills brought to mind the larks and nightingales of her homeland. Dawn had just broken. The strip of sky she could see was tinted with sunrise, bits of rose and gold clouds glowing against the brightening azure. She heard soft voices in the corridor, then a light tap on her door. A voice followed.

  "Come, mistress. It is time to arise and break your fast. The morning meal is served in the small hall."

  Since there was nothing else to wear, Jaelle'n put on the robe she had been given last night. By daylight she saw it was even thinner and more transparent than she had realized, doing little to hide her body. She could clearly see her breasts and the coppery triangle at the apex of her thighs through the pale green mesh. Feeling even more naked than if she were totally undressed, she slipped into the corridor, grateful no one was there at the moment to see her.

  Where is the small hall? She retraced the route down the corridor and emerged into the courtyard. Hearing the babble of voices off to the right, she followed the sound to a long room with a high ceiling lit by a skylight, now open to the blue above. The room held several tables with benches on either side. At one table only women sat, most of them her companions for the past days plus a few she did not know.

  At a second table sat a number of men, including Cragen and the others who had served Aquilar at the market on the previous day. There were others also, men uniformly tall and well-favored. Several of them glanced up as she entered, appreciation clear in their gazes. She felt a blush heat her face, knowing they could see her as clearly as if she were bare. With the other women similarly attired, she felt marginally more at ease, but still keenly aware of her near-nudity and of her body, so boldly exposed.

  Each of her companions wore a gossamer gown in a hue particularly suited to her hair and skin. In a robe of lilac, the little barbarian girl was hardly recognizable, her dark brown hair combed smooth and falling in rich waves down her back, her clean skin revealed to be a beautiful shade of tan with a hint of rose. Inger wore deep blue, which set off her golden beauty, and the small dark acrobatic woman was clad in pale yellow. Clean and groomed to perfection, each woman had a beauty of her own. Jaelle'n wondered how anyone could even have imagined what lurked behind their grime and exhaustion. How had Aguilar known what he was buying? And why did one man need two dozen women?

  She had heard certain pashas and sultans in Dar-Islah and neighboring lands kept harems of hundreds in addition to a dozen or more wives, but had dismissed such tales as fanciful. Her father had but one wife, and upon her early death, he had taken only two concubines, captive women captured in raids to Scotta and Is'lerin, across the mountains from Cymrydda. And he was a High King.

  What manner of man needed a different woman every night? Surely an old and jaded one, whose masculine powers were fading to the point he feared impotency and thus required the constant titillation of virgin flesh. Aguilar hardly seemed to fall into such a category, for he could not be more than five years her elder. He was a handsome, strapping man in his prime, to all appearances. She could not admit even to herself the small pang of disappointment she felt when she saw he was not there.

  For a mere instant she contemplated what it would be like to live in sheltered but confining seclusion, as in a caliph's harem, kept like a pampered pet until the one night the master asked for your service. Brainless twits. Those women would have to be brainless twits or they would go mad with boredom. Pray I do not end up in that sort of life!

  The servitors in the eating room were all young children not even close to puberty, boys and girls dressed alike in short, straight tunics and differentiated only by the cut of their hair. Jaelle'n noted that the men were served meat and eggs, thick bread and slabs of cheese, while the women were given mostly fruit and light, crisp bread with a few thin slices of cheese.

  In Cymrydda, she would have broken her fast with gruel and cream, perhaps a bit of fish, and fruit, if it were in season. She found the repast light but adequate, although she missed the familiar klass, a dark beverage brewed from leaves and grain and always served steaming hot. Perhaps it was unknown here in Challabadur, where even in winter, nights could not be truly cold since it was so far to the south.

  Just as the women finished eating, another person joined them. This small woman was past middle age, so thin she appeared almost gaunt, and she, too, was dressed in a simple wrapped robe. But there was one difference. Her robe seemed iridescent, sh
owing all the colors of the rainbow, and was in no way transparent. She glided up to the end of the table at which Jaelle'n sat, folded her arms and looked from one of the new arrivals to the next. Her keen, dark eyes seemed to miss nothing as she scanned each of them. Jaelle'n disciplined herself to hold her head high and gaze back with the same calm and confident manner the older woman displayed.

  "Today we will begin your lessons," the woman said after she'd thoroughly perused the group. "I can see that most of you have a great deal to learn. You will have to work hard, do exactly as you are told, and put everything else out of your minds starting at once."

  Again, she swept the table with a keen glance, missing no one. Jaelle'n sensed the woman's gaze lingered just a moment longer on her than on anyone else before she spoke again.

  "Here in the House of Aguilar, we believe in both rewards and punishments. Those who apply themselves to the lessons will not be punished, but only those who succeed will earn rewards. Those who refuse to try, who rebel or oppose their teachers, will be punished. At first the punishments will be slight, but if you persist in defiance and opposition, they will become more harsh. I would advise you not to practice such foolishness.

  "My name is Madame Tanith. Because you see me as small and old, do not assume I have no powers. You will address me as 'Mistress,' and you will obey my every command. You will now all rise and follow me."

  She turned and started off without looking back. Benches scraped harshly on the tiled floor as the twenty-four women scrambled to their feet and hastened to catch up with Madame Tanith. She led them through a complex of corridors, which seemed far too long to be contained within the building they had glimpsed as they approached it the previous night. At last they came to another large, airy room, similar in appearance to the eating hall.

  Thick, plush rugs were scattered about on the tile floor, and heaps of pillows filled the low benches along two of the walls. One wall held the door through which they entered and the fourth contained a series of drawers and small doors as if it were a place for storage.