by CA Morgan
“Omens are nothing but the prattle of old men, who have nothing better to do with their time,” Eris said coldly.
In the small mirror next to him, he saw Maissa smile just a bit and sensed the nervousness in it.
“Are all your people so unrestrained in their words and action?” she asked.
“Most.”
“Then you must learn to guard your tongue around the Sultan. He will not long tolerate such forwardness in a woman,” Tivar warned, but her voice remained friendly. “The omen, though quite unusual, portends of good things to come. As I have said, his Excellency feels that the ceremony will somehow alter the outcome of the augury and he doesn’t wish that to be so. He is quite taken with your beauty. More so than with anyone any of us can remember.”
“All of this is true, Erisa,” Maissa said. “The augur saw no infant as with the others before you. Instead, he saw a strong, proud warrior grown to manhood, a young man capable of doing many great things for Reshan. You should be proud to have a son like that. They say he looked very much like you.”
“No doubt he would,” Eris said quietly and felt shaken. He wondered if for some reason the augur would perform his ritual again to try to discover a deeper meaning to what he saw. Eris wondered if he would be able to discover the truth. That what he saw was him without the guise of the curse, without the veil of Erisa.
“There is also a rumor of twins,” Tivar added. “A boy, as Maissa said, and also a girl with eyes as blue as the sea.”
Just then Eris truly wished he was a woman and had the ability to swoon and faint away. Now would be a good time. Not only did they see him, but the image of Charra-Tir and her essence clinging to the fringes of her spell. Without a doubt, there was no mortal born with eyes as blue as hers.
“Erisa, are you well?” Maissa asked, when she saw the color pale in Eris’ cheeks. She pressed a fleshy hand to his forehead. “Your children will be the pride of all Reshan. It has been many years since we have had a handsome prince.”
“I’m fine,” Eris whispered. Damn Raga for talking him into this absurd scheme.
“Good. Now we’ll dress you in your beautiful dress. The Sultan has truly never had such an enchanting bride,” Maissa said, giving him a squeeze.
Eris said nothing as they dressed him in a gown of the palest pink fabric, a fabric so light and delicate that it rippled with his slightest movement. It was cinched at the waist with a simple cord of spun silk twined with gold filament. His feet were left bare and he was given no jewelry except for the golden circlet on his head. Now that the chain was no longer a barrier, they removed the coiled bracelets from his upper arms.
“Now, you are almost ready,” Maissa said as she smoothed a stray lock of her own hair and inspected Eris’ appearance.
“What else do I need?” Eris asked, thinking he was more than well attired for what lay ahead. How would he ever live down this travesty of his manhood?
“I’m afraid you’ll have to be punished for what you’ve done,” Maissa answered.
“Punished?” Eris said bewildered. “Punished for what? I’ve done nothing wrong. I’ve been in this room, alone, for most of the day.”
“Yes, I know, my dear, but your little mistakes have brought this upon you. The first was your stubbornness before the Sultan and his assembled court,” Maissa explained.
“But I thought he would have forgiven that by now. He seemed to then,” Eris said.
“No, Erisa, he has not forgiven nor forgotten. He rarely forgets anything and overlooks even less. Now that you have broken free of your bonds that creates a second great affront to him. You see, child—“
There was that word ‘child’ again. Eris thought he would break the neck of the next person who insisted on calling him that.
“A man’s ego lives on the subservience of others and his power and control over man and woman. For us, as women of his harem, submission to his every whim, to his will, assures us life. Otherwise, we will be driven into the desert to die. Even his Sultana is not immune from his wrath or his will.”
Before Eris could argue that not all men were possessed of such a will, Hofa and Tivar re-entered the room carrying a noisy mass of chains and shackles.
Eris laughed though he was far from amused. His chin lifted in defiance and regarded them all coldly.
“This palace must have a supply of chains greater than all the circuses that travel the summer roads,” he commented without humor.
“My Lady, Erisa, please!” Maissa pleaded, rushing to place a stifling hand over his mouth. “You mustn’t speak this way. You tempt the death spirits much too often.”
“Very well,” Eris acquiesced not wanting to get them in trouble. “Do as you must.”
Hofa held out his hand to indicate that he should come forward to stand on a simple stretcher-like conveyance. The eunuch knelt and fastened a pair of shackles around his ankles, then helped him to kneel as another iron belt was fastened around his waist. The iron rings pressed into the bones of his ankles and he tried to keep his weight lifted to lessen the pain. That was soon made nearly impossible as a collar went around his neck and the chain attached to his feet was threaded through the iron loop at the waist and locked through a loop on the collar pulling his body into a curled position. Once again, his hands were trapped in heavy iron. He tried to lift himself a little straighter, but it was no use. He barely saw Maissa’s thighs and she stood in front of him.
Eris seethed in silence. He felt utterly humiliated as the other three moved about the room finishing their tasks. He didn’t care who the Sultan thought he was; this was not right. Of course he had heard about such things as this. His life in Rennas Baye could hardly have been called genteel, and stories of brothels that catered to these sorts of things filtered about now and then, but this was the last place he would have expected it.
He tried to concentrate on the red stone to take his mind off of the growing pain in his ankles; a subtle punishment added to probably more to come. But once he had that gem, nothing and no one would stand in his way. The charade had gone on long enough.
As soon as a white veil was draped over his head, four eunuchs were summoned to carry him through the corridors to the Sultan’s chambers.
“Raga!” Eris shouted through the mind-bond to the sleeping sorcerer. “Raga, damn your eyes, wake up!”
“What do you want?” The question returned as a fuzzy whisper.
“If you value whatever life I decide to let you have, then you had better get me out of here.”
“Why are you threatening me now? I haven’t even seen you the entire day?” Raga asked now fully awake. With the continuing and noticeable decline of his power, he was assigning a measure of intent to Eris’ threats.
“As if you didn’t know. There isn’t going to be a ceremony anytime soon. So much for your plan.”
“What are you talking about?”
“There isn’t going to be a ceremony until after an heir is produced. The gods only know when that stone is likely to show up. Do you know where they are taking me? To spend the evening with his Excellency.” Eris’ angry sarcasm made the link sag with heaviness.
“This could be interesting.”
Eris knew a broad smile parted the sorcerer’s flaming whiskers. “I’m not laughing,” Eris thought furiously. “You should see what they’ve done to me. I’m chained up like some ravening bear. Trussed like a boar for the fire pit is more like it. Even if I were myself, I’d have trouble getting out of this mess. If, by some stroke of fortune, he gives me that stone tonight, then you have my complete permission to do whatever you need to get me out of here.”
“Sorry, Eris, but you’ll just have to suffer through it.”
“What!” Eris nearly shouted out loud. His chains rattled noisily in the hall that was silent, but for the padding of slipper-shod feet. “I thought you had this all planned? That you could get me out of here if an emergency arose?”
“You’re not in any danger as I see it. Be
sides, even if I had all my gems and full complement of power, it would be very difficult to do as you ask. Why, you might even be scattered in the wind for a thousand years before I could collect all your parts,” Raga explained with infuriating factuality. “Maybe I can come up with some sort of diversion to help you out.”
“At this point, anything. We’ve arrived at the chambers.” Eris saw the bottom half of a set of double doors swing away from him.
The four eunuchs placed him carefully on the floor and discretely left the room. The pain in his ankles grew again as the iron bands pressed deeper into his flesh. The silence in the room was as heavy as the smell of strong, musky incense that filled his nose and made him feel a little light-headed. Eris couldn’t see the Sultan from where he was and finally heard him stir at some distance across the room.
“Well, well, my beautiful Erisa. I see I wasn’t wrong about you. You have much more fire than I thought,” Umar said, coming to a stop in front of the litter.
Eris said nothing and kept his eyes on the beaded slippers that appeared before him. He hadn’t realized before what a deep and resonant voice the man had and wondered why it struck him now.
“They tell me you have been very naughty.” He pulled the veil from Eris’ head. “You must know, my lovely, that everything you do and say will find its way to me. I would rather not see your beautiful neck encircled for months in this iron collar. I would much prefer to watch you dance as the enchanting creature you are.”
The Sultan stepped behind Eris and knelt down. He felt the man’s closeness and he forced himself not to move when the Sultan’s hands slid over the silky fabric covering his back and stopped at his neck. A jingle of tiny keys and the collar was removed, allowing him to straighten and take the weight off of his throbbing ankles.
With deliberate slowness the Sultan pulled the gauzy fabric away from Eris’ left shoulder and laid a row of feathery kisses along the curve of his neck. Eris clenched his jaw and willed himself to stillness.
“I would also rather see you in this and nothing else,” Umar said and breathed in deeply the perfume Tivar had rubbed into Eris’ skin. He pushed the fabric from Eris’ other shoulder as his hands came around to the front and held a brilliant red gem set in elegant gold filigree.
Eris took a deep breath. There was no doubt that it was Raga’s. The red stone was of an enormous size and the cut was the same as the green one he had safely stowed in the pouch of his bracer. He wished he could close his eyes and wake to find this one in the other bracer and both of them laced to his wrists as he rode fast away from this place. The touch of the Sultan’s hands caressing the smoothness of his flesh reminded him that it was not to be and sent a shiver up his spine.
“Do you not think it the most beautiful gem you have ever seen?” Umar asked as his fingers caressed the soft part of Eris’ throat.
“Yes, my Lord, I have never seen anything so beautiful,” Eris answered, trying to sound submissive. He fought the rising revulsion as the Sultan was kissing his shoulders again.
“Then I shall put it on for you. My advisors all agree that there is something special about this stone. Let us hope it will bring you good fortune, my dear,” Umar said and fastened the gold chain around Eris’ neck.
“Raga, damn you!” Eris shouted his thought to the sorcerer. “Have you thought of something? I have the stone, but I’m still trussed like a boar.”
“No. I can’t even tell for sure where you are. There must be other forces at work there that I can’t penetrate.”
“Don’t give me your excuses, sorcerer! The Sultan isn’t going to stop at my shoulders. Focus on your gem. I’ll send you images. Anything! Just get me out of here.” He saw the silver connection vibrate wildly with the intensity of his plea.
“You’re on your own, Eris. I can’t do anything until you’re outside. Even if I caused a diversion out in the streets, the Sultan would only send his guards and it would be a useless expenditure of power.” Raga thought back calmly even though his own thoughts were just as frantic. He was sure Eris would carry out his threats now and certainly try to kill him.
“Erisa, my love, you are not paying attention to what I am telling you,” Umar’s voice broke in over Raga’s thoughts.
“I’m sorry, my Lord, but this is all so new to me. I...I hardly know what to think,” Eris mumbled and let go a sigh.
The situation was going from bad to hopeless. The Sultan would kill him before he could change back and get free of the mass of chains. But if he ever escaped this mess, he swore he would see Raga thrown into Riza’s demonic pit before he himself was hurled there.
“You must remember, Erisa, that I am your world now. Everything you do or think from now on will remind you of me,” Umar said as he removed the golden circlet and began unbraiding his raven tresses. Eris heard him breathe in the heady perfume that Tivar had rubbed on him. “And no one but me will see to your punishments.”
Eris raised his face to the Sultan when he stood and walked around in front of him.
“Why does everyone want to condemn me for being what I am?” Eris asked. Green eyes locked defiantly onto brown ones and the Sultan’s hand shot out and struck Eris a stinging blow to one cheek.
“What in the Seven Hells do you—” Eris started to exclaim then wished he could swallow his tongue. He closed his eyes and braced as the slap struck his other cheek.
Raga felt Eris forcefully suppressing his defiant anger.
“What's happening to you?” Raga’s voice sounded in Eris’ head.
“I’m being chastised for having committed grievous offenses.”
“Then keep your mouth shut and do whatever he wants. Anger won’t change you back.” Raga warned.
“Will you still defy me, Erisa?” the Sultan demanded.
Eris jumped as a thin whip snapped only a measure in front of his knees. He hesitated a moment too long in replying. The whip whistled again and sliced through the sheer fabric and brought a stinging, fluid red line to his right knee. The gash was significant and blood quickly stained the fabric around it. He forced the anger from his mind. It was an attack of sorts, but he had to hold his form. He breathed deeply through the stinging pain and looked down to fill his masculine mind with the charms of his own body.
“Will you defy me?” the Sultan asked again.
“No, my lord, I will obey,” Eris said quickly.
The Sultan suddenly laughed and tossed the whip to the floor.
“Somehow, I have the feeling we’ll need to repeat this little exercise,” Umar said, kneeling before Eris. “What, no tears?” He raised Eris’ face by the chin. He looked for a moment at the flawless beauty of his face, and then gently kissed him.
“Cry, Eris.” Raga encouraged having heard some of the words through the link as Eris was too involved in other matters to turn his thoughts completely away from the path.
“Do it yourself! I’m going to kill this bastard, and then you!” Eris thought viciously. He forced himself not to pull away, to be submissive. His horror at the situation made it seem to Umar that he was indeed kissing a virgin maid.
“Perhaps that is just as well,” Umar said. Eris didn’t miss the sense of pleasure in his words, or the subtle twist of cruelty in his smile. “It will be interesting to have a strong, yet tamed, woman by my side for a change.”
“As you wish, my lord,” Eris agreed.
“Now, I think we should move on to more pleasant things,” Umar suggested. The little golden keys appeared in his hands and the band at Eris' waist slid noisily to the floor.
The Sultan’s hands were suddenly on Eris’ thighs, then up to his waist and then cupping the fullness of his breasts. Eris closed his eyes and cursed the day he had crossed paths with Charra-Tir. Yet the part of him that was Erisa suddenly, unexpectedly, came to the fore. He felt sensations in his body that he had never felt before. As Umar’s gentle fingers continued to caress the suddenly tight peaks of his breasts, he discovered his body did things he didn’t k
now it would do. He was horrified by what his body suddenly, and deeply, craved.
“Soon, my dearest,” Umar said quietly, as his lips brushed Eris’ cheeks, “your body will sing in a way you never thought possible.”
Eris felt betrayed by a body he couldn’t control. He didn’t want it singing, or dancing or doing anything but finding an escape.
Umar got to his feet then took Eris by the hands to help him stand. When he put weight on limbs injured and deeply bruised by the pressing iron bands, a sudden cry of pain escaped his lips and he staggered unexpectedly into Umar's strong embrace. His face flushed and he felt foolish for having done so. He had survived much worse with never a sound in his other form.
“Mark this well, Erisa, the price for your disobedience,” Umar said, as he knelt to unfetter Eris’ ankles. The rest of the chain, except for the cuffs binding his hands, fell away from him. “Maissa will remove the wrist cuffs in the morning. And, let us hope, my beautiful one, they stay off. Your misbehavior will be punished at the least by their return and enforced by this when they come off.”
The Sultan suddenly grasped the iron bracelets and twisted them against Eris’ flesh. Eris gasped as the rough flashing on the inside of the bands dug deeply into the soft skin of his wrists. He remembered Maissa’s scarred wrists and knew that once even she must have rebelled against this man’s arrogance and abuse. Again, Eris saw perverse pleasure in the man's eyes as blood seeped from the wounds.
“But, my Lord,” Eris said quietly, submissively, “how can I serve you bound thusly?” He was more than ready to take his chances at a wild dash for freedom, but the iron had to be removed.
“A simple question, simply answered. Tonight, I shall serve you,” Umar said, as his hands pushed the gauzy gown from Eris’ shoulders.
The armholes caught at his bent elbows, but it was enough to reveal his feminine charms. He saw the look of pleasure rise in the Sultan’s eyes and his fingers brushed ever so lightly over Erisa's rosy-tipped breasts. Once again his body responded, defying his will. He felt like wretching. This wasn’t right and no amount of pretending, of letting Erisa take over, would make it so.
