by CA Morgan
“Might I at least know the name of this woman?”
Raga paused for a moment, then responded pleasantly. “Her name is Erisa, Excellency.”
The Sultan smiled and turned to one of his advisors.
“I don’t believe we’ve had one by that name.”
“No, we haven’t,” a gaunt-faced man replied.
“Tis a very unusual name for a woman,” the Sultan commented.
“Indeed, Excellency, but as you shall see, she is a very unusual woman.” Raga led Eris to the center of the great hall. Leaving him standing there, Raga walked away and the room’s brilliant light dimmed ever so slowly, unnoticeably, as all eyes focused on the shrouded figure standing solitary in the center of the expansive room.
Raga reminded. “Remember, relax and let yourself flow with the music. I’m going to work the spell the same as last time, just to make sure you don’t fall down. Stay on the floor until I come to get you, because I’m going to use another ‘tiny’ spell on you so you’ll recover faster.”
“Fine, as long as you make sure I don’t say, or do, anything I’ll regret later.”
Eris took a deep breath to calm his pounding heart and to ease the tension in his shoulders. It was one thing to perform this absurdity in front of Raga, but it was something all together different to do it in front of a room full of people ready to pounce on his every move, criticize his every flaw. Or, the voice of Erisa whispered, for every man to lust after every supple curve and sensuous twist of his body.
The familiar strains of Raga’s supernatural music filled the room. It was so mournful, so strange it immediately enthralled every ear.
The intriguing feeling of pleasurable abandonment swept over Eris. As before, he threw the powder to the floor and spun slowly as he untied the cloak and allowed its flowing folds to disperse the misty powder and finally flung it away. His audience gasped at the sight, and sighed as they watched Erisa’s perfect red-gold form materialize, writhing and swaying, from the center of the mist that roiled up from the floor. His ebony locks floated as he whirled and made a sharp contrast against the brilliant red fabric and flawless bare skin.
As the dance progressed, the heat of exertion tinged his cheeks with the delicate color of the rose. The diamonds twinkled like a thousand stars in the faint light of the dim hall. His prancing steps brought him within several paces of the assembled court where he vaguely noticed that the Sultan had actually left his seat and was standing on the bottom step of the dais. The odious guard stood nearby whispering his tale to him.
This time the dance seemed endless to Eris as he glided with whispering steps traversing the room several more times.
From somewhere in the room he heard faint sobs coming from the previously chosen girls as they realized they would not be chosen for the honor, such as it was, but prayed to their gods that the Sultan would keep them and not return them to the cruel hands of their slavers.
Eris knew the Sultan had fallen for their trap. The man’s face told him all he needed to know. The realization that he was a step closer to the gem gave his final steps an extra air of sparkling vivacity that surprised even Raga.
As he sank to the floor, alertness returned more quickly than before, and silence filled the enormous room.
Raga’s two spells tugged his emotions in opposite directions making him feel almost drunk. He was glad to sit on the cool marble to catch his breath and let the whirling in his brain settle. Hearing more than one pair of feet approaching, he raised his head slightly.
Raga hurried to head off the Sultan, who was also walking quickly across the polished marble. Eris felt his stomach knot. Not even a Sultan was above allowing his face to display his all-too-ardent intentions.
“Please, Excellency,” Raga said, and Eris cursed him for speaking as though he was begging. “I will bring her to the throne where you can see her beauty in the fullness of the light.”
“You will be quick. I’m very desirous to see this woman,” the Sultan said, stealing a look back over his shoulder as he returned to the dais.
“I’ll bet you are,” Eris muttered crossly.
“I heard that. Don’t start your nonsense again.” Raga bent down. “Here, let me help you.”
“Why does everyone have to look at me with such ogling lust? I ought to carry a pail to catch their drool,” Eris complained, as he took a few teetering steps.
“It’s all a part of the curse. You know that. I don’t understand your indignation. Your conceit feeds on that admiration when you’re a man.” Raga held Eris tightly to make sure he didn’t trip until the spells wore off completely.
“That’s a completely different matter. I can choose to accept or ignore it as I choose. In this form, I compromise myself if I accept. If I ignore it, I end up fighting for my life as I did with Slott.”
“Just don’t start any fights until you have that gem around your neck and are coming out of this place.” Raga took Eris’ hand and placed it on top of his upraised arm as was proper etiquette for a lady.
“Excellency, may your humble servant present to you the Lady Erisa, from the Land of the Night Vales, the tribes of the Valerosso,” Raga announced with a nod of his head. Eris made a swan-like curtsey to the floor.
“You may indeed,” the Sultan said, barely able to restrain himself and pushed the boundaries of his own required decorum. “Physician, your opinion of the exquisite maiden.”
The physician, as Eris had surmised previously, was a tiny, rat-like man and stepped down from his place on the dais. He rubbed his chin with a thin hand as he made a complete circle around Eris, scrutinizing every little detail.
“In my opinion, she is well suited for the task at hand. She appears to be extremely healthy,” he reported.
The Sultan smiled and came off the step to take both of Eris’ hands in his. He leaned forward and kissed him on both cheeks, then turned to Raga.
“You’ve done well, my good man. She’s obviously a woman from a good family, unlike the street trash I’ve been presented with. Had I been able to see her on the first day, my search would have been over. But, at last, she is here and you shall have the prize I offered.”
As if on cue, one of the eunuchs brought forward a small, jewel-encrusted coffer. He lifted the lid to show Raga its contents. Inside was a generous handful of heavy gold coins and a score or more of the sparkling jewels that had come from the desert sands.
“His Excellency is too kind,” Raga said, making another bow and accepted the box of treasure.
The Sultan waved him off and turned to face his court.
“Let it be recorded that I, Umar al Ghazi, Sultan of Reshan and the Imperial City of Ulna Karahm, Guardian of the Ruby Sands, shall take this maiden, Erisa by name, to be my lawful wife and recognized mother of my only legitimate heirs. Let it be so,” he announced. He turned back to Eris and spoke quietly. “You shall be the flower of my garden and the star of my night, beautiful Erisa. All honor shall be accorded you by all of Reshan, and I shall present you with the most prized possession a man can give.”
“I hope he’s talking about the gem.” Eris struggled not to cringe as he suffered through another round of kisses to his cheeks.
“I hope so too.” Raga wrinkled his nose in disgust as he watched the Sultan kiss Eris and run his hands along the smooth skin of his arms. It jolted him to remember that only the night before he had done the same, but that was very different, he rationalized. This felt akin to sending a favored child into captivity to secure a treaty or agreement, yet the feelings of yester eve that he struggled to deny were anything but.
Watching the Sultan’s eyes devour Eris’ form, Raga felt a sense of unease and dismay about what Eris was about to do, or might be forced to do. They both knew what they were facing weeks ago when the plan was formed, but somehow the reality of it never seemed real until a moment ago, at least not to him. He shivered inwardly and turned his thoughts away from Eris. Oddly, he felt guilty about the turn of events rather than p
leased. Maybe they should have thought longer, played out more scenarios and come up with a different plan. Then again, it was the loss of time neither of them could afford. Raga tried to convince himself of that.
“Raga, where are you?” Eris thought when he felt the sorcerer’s presence draw away from him. “Tell me what to do next. How do I know when this ceremony will be?”
Raga took a step closer to him. “I don’t know what to tell you. I’ve never been inside a harem. Just stay calm and keep your eyes and ears open. I should think the ceremony will be within the week, and I imagine you will spend most of your time with the women until then.”
“I hope you’re right. All this kissing and caressing is turning my stomach.” Eris smiled warmly at the Sultan, who held out his hamd to Eris and led him up the steps of the dais.
“Hofa,” the Sultan said, turning to one of his eunuchs. “Please, take my lovely bride to Maissa. She will know what to do.”
“Yes, Excellency,” Hofa answered in a high-pitched voice that sounded awkward given the man’s size. From out of the folds of his expansive pantaloons, two golden cuffs with a short length of chain between them appeared in his hands.
Suddenly feeling even more trapped like a wild animal in snare, Eris pulled his hand from the Sultan’s arm. His bright-green eyes narrowed like a cornered tiger.
“What does he mean to do with those?” Eris demanded. Instinctively, he crossed his arms hiding his hands. “Am I to be chained like an animal?”
The Sultan frowned at Eris’ reaction. An eyebrow raised as the line of his mouth became hard and firm. He drew his shoulders up and back and seemed to become even taller and more imposing than he already was. How dare a woman challenge him in front of his assembled court?
Eris realized in that moment he’d committed a terrible mistake. His cheeks colored and he felt the horrified gaze of everyone in the room on him and had no idea what to do next.
Raga rushed forward and fell prostrate on the steps. He spread his arms imploringly, while keeping his face to the ground. Eris cringed as he watched the infinitely powerful, first-level elemental groveling at the feet of a mere man.
“Forgive her, Excellency,” Raga pleaded. “Her people live free as the wind on the vast steppes in the Night Vale. She is not accustomed to the ways of civilized men.”
Civilized, Eris scoffed silently. In his mind, the Sultan was no less a bastard than the slavers milling about on the palace steps.
“Believe me, Excellency. She only needs to be instructed in the ways of your people, and what better master than yourself,” Raga said.
Sultan Umar considered Raga’s words. His eyes narrowed shrewdly as he looked at Eris, then to the other girls fearfully huddled together at the bottom of the steps. The great room was unbearably silent. At length he smiled a tight, controlled smile and lightly caressed Eris’ cheek with the backside of his fingers.
“Perhaps you are right, merchant. It will be most satisfying to teach her these things, and if the gods find favor, she will bear a son with the same quickness and suspicions. The same qualities I have found advantageous in keeping this kingdom under my rule,” Sultan Umar said. He reached out and took hold of Eris’ hands and pulled them toward himself. “Hofa, as I command.”
The large, baby-skinned eunuch stepped forward, and without meeting Eris’ gaze, locked the golden cuffs around Eris’ slender wrists.
When he finished and stepped away, Eris looked down at his bondage and felt more than humiliated and degraded. He heard the collective sigh of relief whisper around the hall and the whispered condemnation of the men around him. He had truly become chattel in a world dominated by men. There was no honest defeat on the battlefield here.
Hofa took Eris gently by the elbow and led him from the dais toward the doors behind the great pillow throne. They paused at the archway to wait for the other girls chosen to join the harem. Like Eris, they were bound, but unlike him, they wore chains of crude, heavy iron, not gold.
“Be very careful, Eris.” Raga warned, concern and warning in his thoughts. “This man will support no affront to his person or his authority. He has absolute control over everything. Do whatever he says until you have that gem and can get free. Be careful. I can’t say that to you enough. The punishment for a disobedient wife is not pleasant. And were you to change back into a man during an ordeal, your death will not be an easy thing. You can’t fight the whole palace guard alone.”
“I’ll be careful.” His tone was somber. “I just don’t know what to do. Feel free to let me know if you think I’m headed for trouble. After all this, I would hate to lose now.”
“Just keep your wits about you and especially, your mouth closed.”
“And you keep my horse and weapons ready by the garden wall. And don’t forget the rope.” Eris breathed deeply as Hofa propelled him through the door and into a world of mystery and secrecy.
He heard the soft footsteps of the other girls who followed him and wondered what thoughts were going through their minds as they moved away from the outside world and into the very depths of the palace. Feigning interest in the architecture, the brightly painted walls and the polished marble floors, Eris looked for a way out. He watched for a low window or a bright light at the end of a corridor that signaled a possible entrance to a garden.
“Fare you well, Eris. May whatever gods you pray to bring you out in one piece. I should hate to think of you missing your tongue.”
Raga felt secure that their mind bond was as strong as if they had been standing side by side. He heard a sound like tinkling bells and realized Eris was laughing at him. A slight smile ruffled his beard and he took a deep breath. Perhaps this would turn out well in the end.
The sorcerer turned to leave the palace and wrapped the jeweled coffer tightly in Eris’ discarded cloak. He wasn’t about to risk it getting lost or stolen as he went back through the crowded streets to their lodging. He didn’t need gold and jewels, but Eris would never forgive him for losing it.
The long hall leading back to the front steps was nearly deserted now that the bride was chosen. Servants lit crystal oil lamps that hung on the hooks of silver lamp stands.
Raga walked slowly and let his eyes trace the intricate patterns painted on the walls. He paused for a moment to admire a fish swimming along one of the channels toward another pool. The splashing water droplets in the fountains didn’t sound as festive as they had only a short time ago. In fact, nothing about the palace seemed as grand as it had. Raga sighed and wondered at the difference he felt.
The fish attempted to turn in the channel to rejoin the school it had just left, but it was too large and the channel too narrow. The fish whipped its tail with supposed indignation, sent up a splash of water and glided into a fishless pool.
It was then Raga understood what he was feeling, loneliness. He raised the cloak slowly to his nose. The sweet fragrance of orange blossom lingered in the fabric.
Though he and Eris had been together for less than a full phase of the moon, he found himself feeling strangely alone. During those months he had tracked Eris before finally confronting him in Rennas Baye, he was careful to never come too close. Even then he understood Eris’ questing, suspicious nature and the ease with which he settled problems with the sword's sharp edge. Raga realized he would miss their bantering and a few days or a week without Eris’ incredible antagonism would be a week of sheer boredom.
There’s nothing to be done about it, Raga thought and a tired sigh escaped him. He glanced at the fish swimming alone in the great pool and a great melancholy settled in him.
“Time to go,” he muttered and quickly departed the long hall. The palace steps were in shadow as the sun rode low on the horizon.
He was sure Eris was going to have a pleasant week without him and would probably not give him a second thought so great was his animosity.
“He probably won’t even be glad to see me either,” Raga muttered and frowned deeply at the merrily chattering people he pa
ssed. In an elemental-sized ill humor by the time he returned to the inn, he paused downstairs long enough to buy a half dozen bottles of very expensive wine. Settling into their room, dark and shadowed, lonely and overpowering in its silence, he proceeded to drink himself into a more or less uncaring frame of mind.
It seemed to Eris that he and the group of women he led had walked nearly a league before Hofa, the Sultan’s chief eunuch, stopped in front of a heavy, wooden door carved with delicate flowers and birds with fanciful plumes and flowing tail feathers. He reached up and pulled a red tassel that rang a bell on the other side of the door.
It was pulled open by an older woman, who was as colorfully dressed as all the younger ones gathering behind and peering over her shoulders.
“Mistress Maissa,” Hofa said as he bowed low to her. “I have brought the new bride and several others for your attention.”
“But, of course, I had almost forgotten that today was the last day,” Maissa said. She pulled the door wider and stepped back to allow them entrance. Eris thought she had an exceptionally beautiful voice and smiled at her as she pulled him aside and into her embrace, while the others moved into the room.
“What a beautiful, exquisite child you are. Our Sultan has chosen very well this time,” she said. A tingle of suspicion rippled through Eris and he wondered what she meant by “this time”.
Keeping one arm wrapped protectively around Eris’ waist, Maissa turned to look at the other girls who stood huddled together in a self-conscious circle.
“What precious little birds. How we shall have fun dressing them and putting beautiful flowers and jewels in their hair,” she said with a warm smile. A murmur of chatter and laughter rose up from the harem women as they chose amongst themselves which of the new girls they would dress and make beautiful. “Come, come, enough of this. Let the poor little birds rest and get used to their new home,” Maissa said, shooing most of the women out of the visitor’s room and back into the maze of private rooms and shared spaces.
