by Victor Poole
Her hair was dark and soft from the dyes she had put through it, and the sharp bang fell over her cheek bones. She had trimmed her hair in the desert, before the caravan had reached Slavithe, and she rubbed another oil through her black locks now. The oil made her hair shine and hang straight over the vibrant colors of her master's elaborate robe. She put Lim's gold ring on her thumb, and pressed thin flakes of gold into her eyebrows, and beneath her eyes.
Ajalia had not worn her master's beard in Slavithe yet, but she thought that the Feast of Beautiful Things would be a suitable occasion to reveal her master's image in its full glory. She went down the stairs, and banged on the doors as she passed them.
"It's daybreak," she shouted in Slavithe. "We're going out."
Ajalia's master's orange and black robes rustled heavily on the stone steps as she descended. When she reached the door where Lim had hidden himself, she banged harder.
"Lim and Yelin," she shouted, "prepare yourselves." Ajalia came to the bottom of the stairs and found Philas waiting for her. He had a pouch in his hands. He handed it to her, and went up the stairs. Ajalia heard him opening doors, and talking to the slaves in the Eastern tongue. She had told the slaves to speak Slavithe while they were here, but she did not think that any of them had made an effort to learn. She opened the pouch Philas had given her, and took out the woven length of hair.
Her master's beard was made of pure black silk; it had been crimped with an iron, and was wrapped in soft cloth. Ajalia took a jar of sticky ointment out of the pouch, and applied it gently to her jaw. She pressed the silk beard to one corner of her jaw, and worked it around her chin and over her upper lip.
"You're handsome," Chad said.
"What do you want?" Ajalia asked without turning. She put her fingers over the last part of the silk beard, and applied it under her ear. She looked around. Chad was leaning through the open window on the ground floor; the light was growing, and Ajalia could see him clearly.
"I'm going to take you to the Feast of Beautiful Things," Chad said.
"I know where the Thief Lord lives," Ajalia said. Chad's face turned sour.
"Why," he said, "do you know everything about my city? It isn't fair. How am I supposed to be helpful?"
"It is the Thief Lord's house," Ajalia pointed out. She turned, and Chad whistled.
"You look like a man," he said.
"Thank you," Ajalia said. She took a narrow vial of gold powder from the leather pouch, and shook it gently over the black silk. The black shining fibers caught the gold powder, and took on an unearthly shimmer.
"Are you supposed to look like someone?" Chad asked.
"Are you going to come in?" Ajalia asked.
"No," Chad said. "There's a crowd out here."
"Really?" Ajalia asked. She went to the window, and craned around the edge to see out without being seen. A large number of Slavithe people, all wearing uniform gray cloaks, were gathered in the street, their eyes turned towards the little house. The closest cloaked figures were several feet back from the house; each of the cloaked persons carried a long candle of colored wax. The tapers were unlit.
"What do they want?" Ajalia asked.
"They want to see the offering," Chad said.
"I guess word travels fast in Slavithe," Ajalia said wryly. She went back into the house, and shook her hair out over her shoulders. Slaves had begun to trickle down the stairs and gather in the main room. Some of them wandered into the kitchen, and reappeared with hunks of meat or bread clutched in their hands.
"Well, if your offering is amazing," Chad said, "they won't have to give anything themselves."
"I see," Ajalia said. She went to the foot of the steps. "Philas," she called up in the Eastern tongue. He shouted a reply down at her. "We have an audience," she shouted up in the Eastern language. At her words, which the slaves understood quite well, a loud chattering went up in the main room. She imagined the faces of the Slavithe men and women outside, their eyes widening at the exotic noises coming from within the house.
Philas came down the stairs. He was wearing a billowing robe of midnight blue, and his hair had been slicked back, and crowned with a net of glittering red gems. The other slaves were attired in the finery they had worn on the first approach to the city; their silks fell around their bodies with thick rustles, and shimmering hues of gold and black. The women had dressed their hair in elaborate curls and waves, and the men had put on whatever jewels they owned.
"Wait until you see," Philas murmured to Ajalia, and he flicked his head at the stairs. Yelin appeared. Ajalia held back a smile; Yelin looked like a radiant goddess of the moon. Lim's former lover was wearing the heavy silver gown she had hidden in the packing of the caravan, and the thick folds of silk were painted over with long streams of blue water. Leaping fish had been embroidered over the skirt of the silver gown, and the fish eyes shone with imitation diamonds.
Yelin had painted her face in the fashion of an Eastern lady; her eyes were lidded over with heavy red and black, and her lips shone with a lustrous oil that made them look soft and enormous. She had put the tribal sign of their master's clan over her forehead, and her hands had been painted red to match the color of her eyelids. Eastern law forbade a slave to dress fully as a lady, and Yelin's red hands showed her station.
Yelin's long golden hair was dressed in loose waves down her back. Ajalia studied Yelin's hair, which fell down below her waist, and was twisted and pinned with long black jewels at her temples.
"Yelin," Ajalia said.
Yelin tilted her chin haughtily at Ajalia.
"I have unfortunate news," Ajalia told the beautifully dressed slave.
"Yes?" Yelin asked with dignity. Ajalia tried to feel sorry for her fellow slave, but she could not muster any pity.
"They are going to cut your hair," Ajalia said.
Yelin's eyes widened; her mouth dropped open, and what color was visible drained from her cheeks.
"Why?" Yelin demanded.
"Long hair is only allowed to married women here in Slavithe," Ajalia said.
At that moment, Lim appeared at the foot of the stairs. His hair had not yet begun to grow out, and his once-luxurious mass of curls now formed a short shadow over his scalp. Yelin's eyes darted at her old flame, and her lips closed up tight.
"I'll buy Lim," Yelin said.
"What?" Lim said.
"You've got five minutes," Ajalia told Yelin. "Work it out with Philas." She went out of the room, and up the stairs. She could hear Lim protesting, and Yelin bargaining with Philas over a price for Lim as a husband.
Ajalia checked through each room. She found her boy fast asleep in a bed, and shook him out of his rest.
"Get dressed," she told him. "We're about to leave."
The light in the windows was growing lighter by the minute; soon the sun would show. Ajalia was sure that she would be late to the Thief Lord's house. She glanced out of the window of the boy's room, and saw that the group of Slavithe people had grown larger in the street. She wondered if the Slavithe people were going to wait until they were late for the Feast of Beautiful Things as well.
Ajalia went up the stairs to the top of the house. She checked each room, and then went into the small attic room. She retrieved the leather book from where she had hidden it again, and pulled it open to show the lining. The rectangle shape was still there. She traced her fingers over the edge of the shape, and pushed it towards the slit in the fabric.
Ajalia could hear the chanting of a wedding below her in the little house; she wondered what the crowd out in the street were making of the sounds. She was sure the Slavithe people could hear the whole ceremony from outside.
Ajalia pressed the edges of the rectangle until it peeped, just visible, out of the lining. She gripped the gold edge of the rectangle, and pulled it out of the book. A warm shiver of satisfaction ran down her spine when she examined the flat piece of stone that she had drawn out of the lining.
The shape was a thin slice of white stone
; gold paint had been applied to the edges, and letters had been written all over both sides of the stone in black ink. The piece of stone was the key to a cipher; on one side was the obscure old writing that filled the book, and on the other was the narrow, elegant writing that Ajalia had learned to read. The modern Slavithe was slightly different than the writing Ajalia had studied, but each of the letters was clearly visible. Ajalia closed the book with a snap, and tucked the stone piece into the deepest recess of her inner robe. She hid the book in the room, and then went to the door. She looked behind her into the room, and thought about whether or not Delmar was likely to try to steal the book from her. All the slaves in the house knew that she had been staying up here, and though she did not let strangers into the house, even she had been flummoxed by Delmar's vague insistency in the last few days. There was no saying what his strange manners would compel the Eastern slaves to do for him.
Ajalia went and got the old book out, and tucked it back into the interior of her robe. Her master's ceremonial robe had no pockets, or places to hide things, but her plain cream robe that she wore against her skin was made to carry all manner of things. She felt the weight of the coins against this inner robe, and sighed. She had slept with the caravan's store of money strapped around her waist, and though the coins were growing heavy and damp against her body, she had yet to regret heeding the tickling feeling that was still gnawing at the base of her skull. She knew the money was in danger, and she would rather keep it next to her skin than in any other hiding place.
The major disadvantage of her master's ceremonial robes was that they prevented her from easily reaching her knife. In her experience, the act of impersonating her Eastern master was protection enough, but here in the isolated city of Slavithe, and among the other slaves, who were still responding to the upheaval of Lim's demotion from leader, Ajalia felt more exposed than she could remember being on any trading journey.
Something about this trip was different; Ajalia had felt so since she had come within sight of the gleaming white stone of the city walls. Something about Slavithe, about its people, and its customs, made Ajalia shiver and brace herself.
The last marriage song came to a close downstairs; Ajalia could hear the slaves pounding their feet against the stone floor. Ajalia adjusted the sweep of her hair, and fluffed the ends of her black silk beard. She took a deep breath, and put her shoulders into the shape of her master's carriage.
As Ajalia swept down the stairs, her heavy robes pulling down over her body, she thought of her master. He was one of the few men she had ever grown to respect, and when she had belonged to him for a time, she had come to admire him as well. Ajalia's master was a just man; he did not attempt to enact justice on the world, but his dealings among his slaves, and between his near relations, were just. He treated people as people; Ajalia had spent her life watching human beings try to take things from each other, and her master was one of the few men she had met who made her feel as though she were more than a means to an end.
She thought of his voice, and of the timber of his words, and her jaw dropped lower against her neck. The inscrutable stare of the Eastern chief came into her eyes, and she became, in her own mind, an embodiment of him.
THE EASTERN SLAVE SERIES
The Slave from the East
The White Brand
The Thief Lord's Son
The Dead Falcon
The Magic War
The King of Talbos
The Fall of Slavithe
Into the East
The Kingdom in the Sky
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Victor Poole has a little gray cat and a penchant for sketching. You can read more about him and get updates about more of his books at www.victorpoole.wordpress.com.
Table of Contents
The White City of Slavithe
The Caravan
Gevad and the Little House
Philas's Fondness
Ajalia Procures a Cheap Room
The Unpacking Begins
Philas Begins the Cure
The Woman Who Steals
Ajalia Makes a Deal
Gevad Against a Wall
Ajalia Finds a Useful Face
Ajalia Sells Things
Lim Loses His Hair
Delmar
The Hole in the Wall
Gevad Gives In
Philas Takes Charge
The Feast of Beautiful Things
Ajalia's Foreboding
Ajalia Meets the Thief Lord
Delmar Closes In
The Poison Tree Bark
Magic