by Susan Wright
I loosened the thick braid and brushed it out with my fingers. Using Bene’s knife, I cut off a long lock. It must have taken Eshter her whole life to grow her hair. Lexander grimaced as if he was about to protest again, to save her from herself.
"Did you find out where Allonis is?" I asked to forestall him.
"It’s in Ovathi, an isolated village on the other side of the island. It’s run by a guild that makes raw silk. The valley is filled with mouro trees that provide leaves for the silkworms to eat."
"Cloth doesn’t come from worms," Bene protested.
"Silk does," Lexander told him.
I glanced over at my brocade cloak, lined with dark blue silk. The doj had also given me a whisper-soft dress made of green silk.
Lexander picked up one of the fallen locks of Eshter’s hair. "Silk is as strong as iron, worth more than gold by weight. The king has granted the Katartarioi guild a charter to produce raw silk, and they chose that particular bay because it is easily defensible against raiders. Everyone in the village is part of the guild, caring for the worms, removing the silk from the cocoons, and spinning it into thread. Merchants buy the thread in bulk, and take it away to be dyed and woven into fabric."
"What about the pleasure house?" I asked.
"I discovered little and was wary of asking more. I don’t want rumors to spread of my inquiries. We’ll have to pose as merchants to get closer."
"Who will I be?" Bene asked eagerly.
"You and Eshter, since she’ll be disguised a boy, can be part of my crew. We’ll hire a ship to take us there, and you can blend in with the sailors and hear the talk on the streets." He held up a cautioning hand. "Discreetly, Bene. Do you understand? You can’t go lurking around the pleasure house or asking people about Allonis. They may be watching for me."
Bene assured him, "I’ll just listen and tell you what I hear."
I ruffled Eshter’s hair to shake loose the cut strands. I had trimmed it close all around, leaving short bangs and exposing the dusky skin at the nape of her neck.
"How is it?" Eshter asked anxiously. "Do I really look like a boy?"
Renata’s gown was too large for her, so she looked more like a child in her mother’s clothes, far more vulnerable than confident.
"You’ll make a fine sailor," Lexander assured her. "I trust you won’t regret the loss of your hair."
Eshter shook her head uncertainly, rubbing her hand to feel it.
"What did you have in mind for me?" I asked Lexander.
He noticed my cool tone. "Women of beauty and youth don’t travel around on a merchant ship. Perhaps you should pose as a sailor, as well."
"To use my talents to their fullest, I should be your mistress who accompanies you on your long trading trips."
Lexander set his lips together firmly. "No, that would expose you—" He broke off as I put my hands on my hips. "It’s your decision, naturally. But if you act the part of a wanton lady, then you will be treated as such."
"My status will be low so I won’t be a threat," I argued. "That may encourage people to speak before me."
"Perhaps," he conceded.
In the silence that fell between us, Bene ventured to say, "I think it’s a good idea, Marja."
"Can you do it, Lexander?" I asked. "Play the role of my lover?"
Lexander went to the door, his manner more sardonic than I had seen since we had argued in Veneto. "Certainly. Let’s go outfit ourselves for the grand performance, shall we?"
As we gathered together what we needed, I grew ever more worried that my disguise would not work. Lexander could hardly look at me; how could he convince anyone that I was his concubine?
Lexander took possession of my purse. "It will be safer from thieves. No man could take it from me."
It was reasonable enough, but his abrupt manner showed how tense he was. I said little as he bought the Eastern clothes that we would need to complete our disguise, even when he chose more demure robes and veils for me than I would have.
Eshter came along in some of Bene’s castoffs, practicing her swagger and speaking in a deeper tone. She began touching the merchandise, rejecting everything with a curt shake of her head when the merchants suggested a price.
I was transformed when I changed into my Eastern robes, layering the sheer fabrics for modesty. Along with a silk scarf over my hair, there was a small veil that curved over my cheekbones, concealing my lower face. I felt unpleasantly enshrouded.
Bene and Eshter donned rough, humble clouts, breeches, and shirts. But Lexander was magnificent in his white head wrap, red vest, and full pants that tied at the ankle. Instead of a sword, he wore long, curving knives on both sides of his belt.
After surveying the waterfront, Lexander pointed out a large galley of the kind merchants typically used. But I watched the shipmaster’s mate as he shouted orders and pummeled the crew to drive them faster, landing blows on their backs and shoulders with his stick.
I preferred a much smaller boat with a single sail, owned by two young brothers. Their love for their craft showed as they scrubbed the deck and stitched the sail. They would welcome the addition of more crew members, and there would be less risk if Eshter was discovered.
"We must take that one," I said, pointing to the smaller boat.
Lexander was already prepared to bargain with the shipmaster of the galley. "That one’s too small. We couldn’t possibly carry a load of raw silk in it."
I planted my feet and refused to budge. He walked a few steps away, then realized I was not coming. "Marja, be reasonable. That’s all wrong for a merchant."
"Then our story must change. Because that is the boat we must take." I kept my voice low. "The crew on the galley isn’t to be trusted."
Eshter shot a nervous glance at the larger vessel. "They’re dangerous?"
I nodded. Bene protested, "But we have to pose as rich merchants. Why else would we go there except to buy silk?"
I thought of the Sigurdssons family and how shrewd they were. "The only way Lexander could prove himself is to actually purchase the silk. Do we have enough coins for that?"
"No," Lexander admitted. "In the end, our negotiations would have to fail."
"Then I think it’s better if we give them something they don’t have. That way we have some influence over the guild."
Lexander was intrigued. "What did you have in mind?"
I showed them the deep blue lining of my cloak. "We’ll offer them color."
24
When we sailed toward the narrow opening of Ovathi Bay, I was the only one who had no doubt about our chosen path. Lexander was terse and paced incessantly; I’m sure he dearly wished the three of us had stayed on the other side of the island. Bene was unusually subdued and he kept shrugging his shoulders as if remembering Renata’s beating.
Eshter was a serious and increasingly vocal boy. The two brothers accepted her without a murmur, much to my delight. Lexander cautioned Eshter to maintain her pose even if she was discovered by the brothers. "You must behave as if you truly prefer being a man," he told her.
"I do prefer being a man," she retorted. I knew then Eshter had chosen rightly.
A stout warship came out to meet us, tacking smartly against the wind. They demanded that we allow them to board, and Lexander graciously welcomed them. Down in the hold, they examined our sparse cargo of a small crate and two caskets. The crate held bunches of dried flowers and herbs that were used to make dyes, while the caskets were filled with pouches of ocher, cobalt, and crystalline minerals.
When the sentries found no weapons, we were allowed to follow them between the cliffs on either side of the passage. The cleft was not much wider than a large ship. Niches had been cut high into the rock where sentries were poised to attack. Their concern about raiders was so great that I wondered if we could somehow use that against the pleasure house.
The port official was waiting at the dock for us. His men searched the tiny cabin and cargo space of our ship again, including our perso
nal belongings. Lexander had insisted that we maintain our roles down to the slightest detail, so we passed muster. Lexander had also supplied himself with letters of recommendation addressed to his new name, Mahali of Abund.
"What is your business?" the port official demanded.
"I’ve come to see the guild masters," Lexander replied.
The port official narrowed his eyes. "What is your trade?"
"I am a dyer," Lexander said with a bow and a flourish.
The man looked suspicious, but he agreed. "You can send a message with the boy."
It was not appropriate for me to accompany Lexander when he went to speak to the guild masters about setting up a dye works in Ovathi. Bene and Eshter set out to explore the village, but I was too conspicuous in my silk skirts and veil to walk about openly.
When twilight fell, I borrowed some of Eshter’s breeches and slipped onto the dock. I had made friends with the olfs while I waited and several came along, willing to obscure me from sight. If anyone did see through my disguise, they would assume I was a local boy running an errand.
The village was filled with women using the distaff and spindle to twist and double fibers to make silk thread. Younger girls were bent over tiny cocoons, unwinding the long strands. The trees were carefully tended, and baskets of fragrant leaves were piled near a long shed where the worms were cultivated.
But my concern was the pleasure house. There were only a few large houses positioned on the hilltops amid the folds of the valley. To examine each one, I had to scramble up through the scrub brush. Judging from the cries of a baby and the screaming laughter of children, the first house was clearly not Allonis. Nor the second.
The third house I climbed up to, scraping my knees and hands, was so quiet that it seemed almost abandoned. I crept into the garden at the rear and watched the glow from the kitchen doors, where a few servants were finishing cleaning up from the evening meal.
When a girl came out to empty a bucket of water, I slipped through the open door into a scullery. If any of the servants could see the olfs, then I would be discovered. But I had to find out if this was Allonis.
The olfs stayed close to me, showing from their reluctance that they were unaccustomed to entering this grand house. In every other way, it appeared idyllic. The servants chattered together comfortably as they concluded their duties, a good indication of the tenor of the house. The walls in the kitchen were painted with twining vines hung with fat clusters of grapes. The windows overlooking the garden were open to the ocean breeze blowing up the valley.
The kitchen was next to a dark courtyard, lined by slender columns. A number of doorways led off the courtyard, some closed.
In the far corner a few candles flared, illuminating people who were dipping and swaying in time to a rhythmic tapping. It was the slaves, dancing silently. The master snapped out orders in a basso voice, moving among them like a menacing shadow.
I slipped from column to column, staying within the darkness. A warm yellow light beckoned from a large room at the front of the courtyard. The walls were painted with pastoral scenes of trees laden with fruit and peasants working in the fields.
Inside a woman was seated on a cushioned bench, gazing out. Her smile was serene, and I realized she couldn’t see the slaves dancing because of the number of candles that lit up her chamber. Her eyes were so dark that for a moment I thought she wasn’t the mistress, but they sparkled too much to be human. Her hair was dark, short, and feathery, reminding me of Canille.
Suddenly the tapping stopped. By the time I turned around, the master was striding toward me. For a moment, I thought he saw me. I almost darted away, but I realized he was looking past me, at the mistress. I forced myself to stand firm, begging the olfs to continue hiding me in the shadows.
He walked by, blocking the light as he entered the chamber. On the other side of the courtyard the slaves were retreating through two doors. Some spoke together in low tones, warily watching for the return of their master.
The mistress silently rose and picked up one of the candles. She glided over to a small wooden door. With my heart pounding faster, I shifted to watch her, creeping as close as I dared.
The mistress opened the door to reveal a slave girl seated on a stool. She was naked, with her hands tied behind her back. Her ankles were pulled back so her legs were open, revealing her delicate pink nether lips. She couldn’t see because of a black silk hood over her head, covering her face and tied at her neck.
The master and mistress didn’t speak as they entered the small closet. The master looked sickly eager, like a rat sniffing for crumbs. Then the door shut between us.
I hesitated at the very threshold of the chamber. Surely I had seen enough to know that something very bad was happening to that slave.
But my feet carried me forward, stepping quietly across the rugs. Only one olf remained with me—it had ears on top of its head, like the numerous cats in the isles. I had to bribe it with the pick of my next three meals for it to stay with me.
I bent forward to see through the crack above the hinge. The mistress considered the slave thoughtfully, then brushed her fingertips against the girl’s belly. A glitter caught my eye as the mistress moved away. She was holding a needle.
The girl jerked and trembled, trying not to move. The silk over her mouth moved in and out rapidly as she panted.
"What am I going to do this time?" the mistress asked in much the same tone as she would have wondered which wine to drink.
The girl didn’t answer, though every movement cried out, "No!" She had been in this room before. I put my hand to my mouth.
The needle was tiny, yet wickedly sharp. The mistress trailed the tip over the girl’s skin, flicking her nipples and making her squirm. When she slowly dropped the needle down to the girl’s crotch, I held my breath.
"Do it," the master said harshly. He was flushed and his hand was moving on his tarse.
The mistress made a quick motion and the girl cried out as she jerked against her bonds. A thin line of blood beaded, then dripped into the dark hair over her nether lips. A searing echo of her pain shot through the olf.
In that moment, I also felt the slave girl’s certainty of what would happen. The mistress would poke and scratch her until she was frantic, then penetrate her with a carved phallus that was worn with use. The master would pleasure himself, climaxing once or twice, while growling out encouragement to the mistress. Not even the slave girl’s screams could make the mistress’s expression change. She was dead inside.
The poor olf disappeared in a flash of light.
I backed out as fast as I could, choking on my tears, knowing my life depended on silence.
Only the brothers were on the boat when I returned, sleeping under the deck. I huddled in the stern as far from the dock as possible, sobbing. As soon as Lexander stepped onboard, he knew something was wrong.
He came to me, kneeling down and cupping my shoulder tenderly. "Marja, what is it?"
The words were ripped from my throat. "Why, Lexander? Why are your people so cruel?"
"You’ve been inside Allonis." He pulled his hand away as if scorched. "Did they see you, Marja?"
"No, the olfs hid me." For a moment, we had connected, but now it was gone. That made me feel even worse. "I know the gods have such great concerns that we’re like ants beneath their feet. They trample us with no regard because they must. But what greater purpose does it serve for the masters to torture their slaves?"
"It serves no purpose but our own pleasure," Lexander said flatly.
I stared at him. "Have you no other desire?"
"Not here." Lexander shifted and started to stand.
But I put my hand on his arm. "I need to know why, Lexander."
He turned his head away as if he would refuse. Then he looked down at my fingers, resting lightly on his sleeve. "You don’t want to know," he said roughly, but he didn’t pull away.
I kept my hand on his arm, knowing my flesh would feel very
hot to him, hoping he would reach out to me again. But he was closed off, guarded and distressed. "Tell me, Lexander. What makes the masters treat their slaves so badly? It could be the key to their undoing."
Lexander abruptly sat down beside me, dislodging my hand as he moved farther away. " ’Tis selfishness, pure and simple. You may not understand, but we don’t have families as you do. We mature quickly and shun the kind of bonds you form. Maybe that’s why we consider only our own needs."
"You don’t have parents?"
His mouth twisted, but it wasn’t a smile. "Not as you mean. A woman birthed me, but I met her only once and did not like her."
I couldn’t imagine growing up without my mam and da. "And your father?"
There was a tremor in his hand as he adjusted his head scarf. I waited.
"Why must you ask me this?" he finally demanded.
"I’m trying to understand why your people hate us."
That caught him off guard. "We don’t hate you . . . We use you for our own pleasure."
I shook my head. "Not always. The mistress of Allonis felt nothing while that slave girl screamed."
"Not all of my people are like that. Only those who leave our island become masters. We are the flawed ones, the unsociables and the disaffected. We are suited to the training because of our domineering or aggressive temperament, and are encouraged to go out and establish our own small kingdoms. We accept because we have nothing else."
"But, Lexander, everyone has faults and imperfections. Even the gods."
"You don’t understand, Marja. My people embody perfection—we are the mold from which your people sprung. But you are blurred copies of what we once were. We are stronger and smarter, mastering the very currents of life that reside within. The best among us can move with a mere thought and command the elements at a great distance."
"I know. We almost died from the storm you conjured when we left Tillfallvik."
"I didn’t cause that storm," he said irritably. "As I said, I’m flawed. I’m the last of my line. There will never be another like me."