Sai’tan nodded sagely if cautiously. “What did you have in mind?”
The ladies showed her the latest trend. They arranged their servants on their knees, in a circle with their backs to each other. Then each lady faced a servant, not her own. Lifting her skirt, the lady then directed the servant to get busy with her tongue.
No one asked the servants what they wanted to do, Pashera noted.
“Since you have no servant, you can be the referee,” the lady in the iridescent skirt told Sai’tan. “Burn a very short candle, just a nub, really. When it finishes, we rotate slaves. Last one to orgasm wins … ahh …” the lady looked at the others as the slave got busy between her legs. “I may not win this one.”
The other ladies tittered and hooted.
“Remember, it’s the honor system,” one of the others said, laughing.
Sai’tan broke off a short piece of candle and lit it. Meanwhile, the ladies laughed and taunted each other, licking their lips teasingly and blowing each other sarcastic kisses.
Their bodies swayed and dipped like snakes, in hypnotic rhythm. Their long lizard tongues tasted the air, faster and wilder as time went by.
After a short while, Sai’tan said: “Oh! The candle is out already.”
“Rotate,” said the lady in pearl. They disengaged from the busy mouths of the slaves in front of them, and stepped sideways in rotation around the circle.
“Ah-h-h-h-h,” several said together as the slaves put their mouths to work again.
Over the space of several short candles, the ladies joked and teased each other, and stroked hands up each others’ spines, which was apparently a very sensitive zone for saurian ladies. Anything to get their competitors closer to climax.
And sure enough, by the end of the third candle, two of the competitors lifted themselves up on their toes and moaned. Their faces flushed, and they wobbled on their feet. Bowing to each other and the group, they went and sat down.
Sai’tan lit another candle. Those slaves who no longer had lady-parts to mouth now went to the outside of the circle. They rubbed the saurian ladies from spine to bottom and back again. This made more of the ladies twitch involuntarily, and they began falling off quickly.
By the fifth candle, there were only two competitors left. One was the lady in the iridescent see-through outfit, the other was the lady in pearl. They held hands over the heads of two slaves as other slaves caressed and stroked them from head to toe. Finally, the iridescent lady moaned, sighed and stepped back. The lady in pearl held up her hands in triumph, to the applause of the others.
Sai’tan took it all with agreeable grace. But it was obvious she wasn’t familiar with the contest.
“Didn’t the ladies do this when you were of marriage age?” the woman in pearl asked Sai’tan.
“It was a bit different back then,” Sai’tan said.
“Oh, well, everything old comes around again. You’ll have to show us your way next time,” the lady in pearl said agreeably.
The party began to break up. Pashera suddenly remembered that she had to get back to her bed. But her legs were so stiff from standing on her toes on the furniture that she was barely able to get down without falling flat. Still, she “clunked” against the furniture.
She whisked out the door and down to her closet before anyone could see. She climbed under her blanket and was in fact nearly asleep when the closet door opened.
“You should never do that again,” Sai’tan said. “No, don’t deny it. I’d just have to punish you. We have to teach you the ways of the world before Lord Tol’zen takes a wife.”
Sai’tan turned to leave, then opened the door again. “Don’t judge them, Pashera. Not by the standards of your jungle tribe. The city is very different, and our culture is very old. You have no right to judge us. Not if you know what’s good for you.”
And with that, she was gone. Pashera lay still for a while longer. Tears leaked out of the corners of her eyes. To think that she had wanted to become Tol’zen’s wife and be part of such a cabal of witches, she thought. To think that’s what Tol’zen would end up with.
Soon enough, she was asleep.
Tol’zen showed up for breakfast with U’Chan in tow. Sai’tan did not appear early, so Pashera made breakfast as Sai’tan had showed her, and served Tol’zen and U’Chan.
U’Chan spent the time telling Tol’zen about Thal’tos. The old scientist had been found flopping like a fish and foaming at the mouth.
“Hunters got him,” U’Chan was sure of it. “Hunters from beyond the stars. Hunters in the dark.”
“Hmm,” Tol’zen said. “Is he dead?”
“No, but he won’t wake up.”
“It wasn’t hunters then,” Tol’zen said. “He’d be dead.”
Pashera kept her face down and did not joke with Tol’zen as was her usual way. For his part, he looked at her wistfully, and toyed with his food.
Finally, he reached out and grabbed her hand. “Was it so awful,” he asked mournfully. “Were they cruel to you?”
“They just stood around me while I pretended to be asleep, and they made fun of me,” she said. And then the dam of her emotions burst, and the tears welled up, and she sat down in his lap and cried.
He hugged her and let her cry it out.
“I could never be one of them,” she sobbed. “I’m nothing like them. What was I thinking?”
She pulled back and looked at him. “Do you know they poison people? For fun?!”
U’Chan tried to suppress a chuckle. Tol’zen gave her a sympathetic smile.
“Well, that brings up something else,” he said.
Just then, Sai’tan bustled in. Her outfit was far above her usual kitchen wear, but not near her elegance of the previous night. Pashera was realizing she knew very little about this lady who tried to be kind to her.
She came bearing the parchments from last night, and a tally.
“Four of them are completely unsuitable,” she said. “Too stupid. Stupid will get you both killed.” She theatrically dropped the parchments on the floor.
“This one is bossy,” she said, and dropped another parchment on the floor.
“The remaining three have potential,” she said. “I’ll have them over tonight. I’ll tell them to bring their poisons. Tol’zen, you’ll attend. As will you, U’Chan.”
“Why me?” U’Chan said, an edge of panic in his voice.
“Well, they have to show their skills on somebody, don’t they? Don’t worry, it’s nothing lethal. Maybe a short-term paralysis. It’ll be fun, you’ll see. Anyway, it would be incredibly bad form to kill the groom’s brother.”
Tol’zen cleared his throat. “We’re still keeping that quiet.”
“Quiet?!” Sai’tan snorted. “At least a dozen people know.”
“But those that know are all our friends,” U’Chan said. “It’s important that the wrong people don’t know. For now.”
Sai’tan sighed. “Fine, fine. We’ll introduce you as a friend. In fact, find me another friend or two, hopefully single. These are the best ladies; your friends would be lucky to consort with them.”
U’Chan looked in panic to Tol’zen who nodded. U’Chan sighed.
“Why can’t anyone know he’s your brother,” Pashera asked Tol’zen. “And why is his name so different?”
“U’Chan’s name is different because, when we were both in the nest, his egg was snatched during a raid,” Tol’zen said. “Ryvers. Nasty beasts,” he held a hand about chest level, “You saw them at my ancestral home.”
“Your mothers don’t guard the nest?” Pashera asked, her opinion of female saurians dropping even more.
“Oh, the nests are guarded,” U’Chan said. “But there are many types of predators, all evolved over eons to hunt our eggs. Some of these nasty things are bigger than a warrior – those are the easiest to stop. But cave-runners, the ryvers, are so fast, my egg was taken.”’
“But you live?” Pashera said.
“Oh,
well, many eggs are taken. But only half aren’t recovered. Those that are recovered are considered lucky. They’re put in special nests, with an extra guard. And that’s where I was hatched.”
Tol’zen ha-rumphed. “Lucky. They’re considered marked – the ryvers come back. That’s why they’re separated, so the others aren’t put at extra risk.”
“Anyway,” U’Chan said. “The mother names the babies when we hatch. Sons take their father’s surname, while daughters take the mother’s surname. But the ‘lucky’ eggs take the surname ‘U’ ”.
“And my brother’s life was saved again because he is not a ‘Tol,’ ” Tol’zen said. “I had a brother and a sister hatched in the nest with me. Our enemies targeted our brother in the trials of youth. I couldn’t save him. And our sister died just last year. Poisoned.” His eyes narrowed in fierce intensity. “By one of Kro’tos’ sycophants.”
“But if you weren’t hatched in the same nest, how do you know you are brothers?” Pashera asked.
“It’s by smell,” Tol’zen said. “Our noses are much sharper than yours. And we can smell our own blood.”
“Can we get back to the subject at hand?” Sai’tan said. Then she poured herself some tea and made the rest of them wait for her to continue. Finally, after sipping the tea, she said: “I talked down Pashera quite a bit. But the ladies coming tonight may still see her as a threat. She should leave.”
There was a pause, then U’Chan said: “I’ll find some work for her tonight around the Cogitorium. She should be fine.”
“I mean ‘leave’,” Sai’tan said. “It’s too dangerous for her. She must go until after Tol’zen is king.”
Pashera stood up like a bolt. “I’m not leaving you,” she yelled, and threw her arms around Tol’zen’s neck.
Presently she stopped sobbing. “Where would you send me?” she said.
“The safest place for you might be in the Palace,” Tol’zen said. “Kro’tos doesn’t have the slaves to waste. Anyway, all slaves are supposed to go to the House of Obedience. That is the law.”
“And it’s good for you to be seen obeying the law,” Sai’tan added, nodding approvingly to Tol’zen.
“Would I have to suck faroos?” Pashera asked Tol’zen. He looked down, and did not answer. “Would I have to be Kro’tos’ fuck-toy?!” Her voice rose to near-shriek pitch again.
“I’m talking about saving your life,” Tol’zen shot back defensively. “How can you worry about those things? Honestly, why are you humans are so obsessed with sex anyway? Sex has nothing to do with love.” He pulled her close. “I love you,” he said. “You must stay alive. I don’t care if you suck a thousand farooses to do it.”
In answer, Pashera howled and attacked him. She tried to strangle him. The deep, cultural chasm between saurian and human was becoming more clear to her by the second, and she had a burning urge to throttle that difference out of Tol’zen right now!
Tol’zen broke her hold easily and wrapped her in his arms as she tried to kick her way out of his control.
Sai’tan rolled her eyes. “Oh, this is going to go over well in the campaign, I can tell you,” she said sarcastically.
“Give us a moment!” Tol’zen said, and started to drag Pashera from the room. But U’Chan stepped forward and put a hand on his brother’s arm.
“What?!” Tol’zen roared.
U’Chan took a breath and exhaled. He said: “I know a way that Pashera can be safe for the next two months and not have to suck anyone’s faroos.”
That got Pashera’s attention. She stopped struggling.
But when U’Chan explained his plan, it was Tol’zen’s turn to get angry.
“Absolutely not!” he said. “She’ll get killed!”
Chapter 12. On the Way to the Arena
Three hours later, Pashera sat idling on a bench in one of Guadalquivir’s large plazas. The place bustled with saurians, humans, and leatherbacks. Many of the saurians were intent on business, and those that weren’t were politicking.
Already, hastily-painted banners were hoisted all over the plaza. Some showed Tol’zen’s symbol, a purple dragon against a yellow-red sun. But more showed Kro’tos’ symbol, a red dragon on a field of white.
Pashera was mostly ignored, which is how she wanted it. Her goodbye to Tol’zen had included an hour of furious lovemaking, and her ass was still sore from her the paddling she’d received the night before. She was tired. And seeing her dreams slip away put her in a foul mood that no amount of sex could sweeten.
But one saurian walking by took notice of her and stopped in front of her. “Pashera. That’s your name, right?”
She looked up. It was Kro’brin. “Yes, that’s me.”
He nodded. He was dressed in a soldier’s uniform, but wore no medals – or weapons, other than a dagger, that Pashera could see. “I remember Tol’zen insisted on having you at the planning and the battle. You must be his good luck charm.”
She laughed, mirthlessly, and a bit too long.
Kro’brin didn’t seem to notice. Unbidden, he sat down beside her. “My leg hurts like the blade is still in it,” he said. “I’m supposed to rest it. It’s hard, though. They’re sending me south to take care of some bandit.” He stretched his wounded leg out and rubbed it.
“Oh,” Pashera said, impressed. “That’s a promotion isn’t it? Good fortune for you.”
“Ha!” Kro’brin said. “Kro’tos would have sent Tol’zen, but then,” he indicated the election banners around them. “He still should send Tol’zen. I’ll probably muck it up.”
“I heard you fought like a demon,” Pashera said.
“Bah,” Kro’brin waved dismissively. “My yast killed twice as many bandits as I did. I tried to get him a medal. But …” and his face darkened. “No medals for yasts, apparently.” He brightened again. “I did give him a name. I’m calling him ‘Mayhem.’ ”
Pashera nodded.
“I want to consult with Tol’zen on my battle plan,” Kro’brin said. “I figure he can point out the flaws. Maybe offer suggestions. I’ll get less warriors killed that way. But he’s awfully busy what with the …” he indicated the banners again. “Is he coming along soon?”
“U’Chan is handling arrangements for me now,” Pashera said. “Tol’zen is busy interviewing prospective brides.”
“Ah, marriage,” Kro’brin looked up at the sky thoughtfully, then down at her again. “I’m married, you know.”
“No, I didn’t know.”
“Yes, we’re never together. She can’t stand the sight of me, and I’m afraid of her,” Kro’brin said. The words seemed to tumble out of him. “There are many happy marriages. My parents had a happy marriage. But mine is a political marriage, and my wife has felt short-changed from day one. Here’s a fascinating fact. Do you know the leading cause of death among well-to-do males?”
“Stabbing?” Pashera guessed.
“Not even close.”
“Poison?” Pashera said, remembering the ladies and their poisons.
“No, but very good. Nope, the leading cause of death is stomach ulcers, caused by males worrying someone will poison them. They take preventative antidotes that eat through their stomach linings.
“Because our wives,” he said, “are very good at poison. The second-leading cause of death is poisoning.
“But it’s a big gap between one and two. Fear of poison is much worse than the actual threat. Fear, fear, fear. It hangs over our society. Fear is the real poison.”
Pashera looked at him. She didn’t know what to say, so finally added: “There seems to be a lot of that going around.”
“Yeah, well,” Kro’brin said. “If Tol’zen asked my advice, I’d tell him not to get married at all.”
Pashera laughed again. Again, it wasn’t a happy laugh. “There, we are in total agreement, Lord Kro’brin.”
“Oh, I’m not a lord,” Kro’brin said. “I’m ‘Serdar’, if you must call me anything, but I hope you won’t. Do you know what Serdar
means?”
Pashera shook her head negatively.
“It means ‘hero.” It’s an ancient Arkhein word, like Cogitorium, or Sumsentia. Do you know who the Arkheins were?”
Pashera nodded affirmative.
“Bright girl. There are many fancy ladies who don’t have time for history. Anyway, I’m no hero. I don’t feel like one, anyway. I only have the job because Kro’tos got mad at the last serdar. I’m not a professional soldier, and now I’m being sent to manage a war. How do you think that is going to go?”
He seemed very nervous. Pashera felt pity for him. That was strange. She felt hatred for saurians generally. Sai’tan, U’Chan and Tol’zen were rare exceptions. She put a hand on Kro’brin’s arm. “You’ll do fine.”
“Hu…” he started, then stopped himself. He shook his head. “If Tol’zen’s not around, why are you here anyway?”
“I’m being sent to the gladiator pits,” she said.
“WHAT?” he looked aghast. “But you’re Tol’zen’s favorite.”
“Yes,” she laughed mirthlessly again. “His potential wives know that. They would poison me in a minute.”
Kro’brin considered this. “Why doesn’t Tol’zen just send you to the House of Obedience? That’s where new slaves are supposed to go anyway. And Kro’tos is desperate for replacements. He’d get you to the palace right-quick, and treat you well.”
“Because I don’t want to suck his faroos, or anyone else’s,” Pashera blurted out. She suddenly realized she shouldn’t be telling this to Kro’tos’ nephew. But it felt so good to tell someone.
“It’s just sex,” Kro’brin said, puzzled. “You don’t like sex?”
“Not with your uncle … or most males.”
“Ah,” Kro’brin said, suddenly enlightened. “Only with Tol’zen, right?”
Pashera’s silence spoke volumes.
“You’re young, aren’t you?” Kro’brin said. “No, don’t get defensive, I’m not too much older than you. I never had sex until I got married, and that was four years ago.” He leaned over and said conspiratorially, “and if my wife has her way, I’ll never have sex again, either.”
Slave in the City of Dragons (Dinosaurs and Gladiators Book 1) Page 28