“Let’s see,” she demanded, hands on her hips.
Chaya turned to face her.
Her eyes wide, Cenka sucked in her breath. “Oh my!” she exclaimed, her hand to her chest. She turned to Sabra. “Oh my!”
“What is it?” Chaya asked.
“You’re sure to fetch a handsome price.”
A handsome price? Dear Good One! What is happening? Does Tanith truly mean to do this?
“Where’s her dress?” Cenka asked.
Sabra opened the wardrobe. The sound of squeaking hinges carried in the air. She reached inside and removed a dress of white, with gold and silver beads sewn into the bodice from its low, rounded neckline to its waist. From there, a full skirt dropped to the floor.
“Robe off,” she ordered.
“Why?” Chaya asked. “What’s this all about?”
“Good thing she’s prettier than she is bright,” Cenka muttered.
“Why do you think?” Sabra asked, her voice laced with sarcasm. “This is to be your wedding day.”
Shocked, Chaya couldn’t speak. Once again, tears welled in her eyes.
“Don’t you dare,” the woman threatened, her face just inches away. “If you cry and ruin the work we’ve done, why . . . you’ll be sorry, that’s what. Your mother worked hard all these years to prepare you for this very day. Now is the time!”
Chaya swallowed hard. “Time for what? To be married? But that’s—”
“Just never you mind.”
Sabra assisted Chaya into the dress. Though it confined and scratched her, the young woman bore the handling without complaint. Not wanting the others to witness her fear, she choked back tears, following her handlers’ instructions without delay.
Once done, the maids stood back to examine their work. Their eyes looked down Chaya’s form, then back up. They gasped, in unison.
“Let’s go,” Sabra said, pulling her arm and half leading, half dragging her to Tanith’s quarters.
Upon arrival, she stepped in, yanking Chaya in behind.
Tanith sat at her vanity. She turned toward her guests. Her eyes, always cold, now turned to ice. She rose, approached, and then slowly walked around her daughter, taking in every detail. “Make sure Taniel has the carriage ready,” she ordered, nodding toward the door.
Sabra set out to do her bidding.
“So,” Tanith said to her daughter, “finally we’ll see if all my ministrations have been to a good end or for naught. You’ve been nothing but a burden to your father and to me. The penalties we’ve paid for you.” She sneered. “Well, Chaya, the bill has come due.”
Chaya stared at the woman, motionless. She wondered if she might change events if she made her mother angry. If Tanith struck her and ruined the object—the thing—she’d created, perhaps her fate would change. She needed to do something—anything—to get the woman to see her as a person in her own right. She fought for words, struggled for the most damning, insulting thing she could say.
“It’s a good thing you didn’t think to sell yourself, mother,” she finally said, her chin lifted, “or you’d likely starve to death.” She’d never used that title for the woman before, and certainly she’d never before dared to speak such words to her.
Tanith reached out to strike her daughter, but then stopped. She smiled wickedly, then laughed menacingly. “So, you think to make me angry enough to harm . . . this?” She waved her hand up and down. “My property? Clever—but not clever enough.” She huffed. “Fear not, my darling daughter, I’ve not lost my senses.”
“Not entirely, perhaps.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I just can’t help but wonder how little sense a woman has who bears a child, then raises it solely for profit.”
Chaya turned away—and that was when she saw it—her image in a mirror. She stopped cold, then gasped. Was that stunning creature in the mirror really her? She pivoted right, then left, getting the full picture, mesmerized despite herself.
“You’ll do, I guess,” Tanith said, as though reading her thoughts.
Chaya turned back, eyes glaring, silent.
She thought about running but had nowhere to go, and she knew no one who could help or hide her. Shaking with fear, Chaya paced, her mind racing. Would Ophelie show up? Would she arrive in time to save her from this travesty? For what seemed the hundredth time, she tried the doorknob, then hung her head in despair. Foolish! Tanith had turned the bolt when she left, and no one had unlocked it in the meantime.
She glanced at the hourglass. In all the time that had passed since her arrival, no one had come to speak with her. She slumped down into a nearby chair, determined to ignore the scratchiness of her attire. Then sounds at the door interrupted her musing.
She stood. Maybe it’s Ophelie!
Sabra and Cenka stepped inside.
Chaya remained standing, as though frozen in place.
“This way,” Sabra snapped, waving her forward.
“Please, Sabra, please help me,” she implored.
“It’s time you paid your mother back for all you’ve cost her.”
“Cenka, please!” Chaya begged, turning her attention to the other woman.
“Let’s go,” she ordered.
Chaya looked hard at the two servants. Then she did all she could. She threw back her shoulders, lifted her chin, and stepped forward.
Sabra grabbed her arm and pulled her out the door, Cenka at their heels.
Chaya didn’t know where she was. Tanith had refused to tell her, and during their journey to the place, had kept the carriage windows covered. Only one thing was certain—the place exuded enormous wealth. Gold gilded chandeliers hung from the ceiling, every candle within them lit, and all burned down to the same level. Red carpets ran down the center of the dark oak stained floors. A chair-height wainscoting divided the walls, which sported intricately carved wood below, and silk wallpaper above.
A minute later, Sabra opened a door and entered, dragging Chaya in behind.
Although she couldn’t see anyone, the sounds of a crowd filled the air. A curtain hanging from floor to ceiling, made of a thick, heavy red fabric, separated her from the noise.
Sabra stood Chaya on a spot in the dead center of the room. “Don’t move,” she ordered. Then she turned to Cenka, and nodded.
Cenka retreated through the side door of what Chaya now identified as a stage. A moment later she returned with Tanith.
The woman approached and looked her daughter over carefully. “Good. We’re ready.” She turned away, her maids at her sides.
“Tanith, please! Please, don’t do this.”
The woman turned back for one last look, but didn’t respond. “You’ll know when it’s time,” she then said to Sabra.
Cenka remained at Chaya’s side. “There’ll be no trouble from you,” she whispered, her voice filled with venom.
The sounds from the crowd on the other side of the curtain increased in volume. Dinnerware clinked and silverware rattled, as coughs and snickers and conversation abounded.
Suddenly, from out of the din, the still small sounds of something touching upon the edges of a crystal glass rang out.
Ting ting ting! Ting ting ting!
The noise level turned down.
Ting ting ting! The sounds of the crystal rang out again.
“Attention,” came Tanith’s voice above the crowd.
Aside from the occasional shuffle of a chair, a cough, or a grunt that followed, the crowd silenced.
“To all of you, welcome. On behalf of Emperor Zarek, I extend his good wishes to you. Unfortunately, as you may know, he couldn’t attend this evening’s events, as his duties called him away.” She paused. “However, he has authorized me to offer you a rare entertainment.”
A low murmur broke out.
Ting ting ting! The crystal called out for silence.
“As I said, this evening we offer to you a rare entertainment and . . . an opportunity.” Tanith paused for effect. �
�Tonight we offer you . . . an auction.”
Chaya heard a wicked smile in her mother’s voice. She pictured the woman looking much as a snake might when about to devour its prey. Yes, indeed, the woman’s parents had named her well.
“In a moment, you’ll see the object for which you may bid. It . . . Well, I’ll let you see for yourself. But before we open the curtain, I must explain to you the rules pertaining to this event.”
Auction? It? Chaya thought. The woman is mad!
“Tonight we will auction off,” Tanith hesitated, building the crowd’s anticipation, “matrimonial rights to my daughter, Chaya. Chaya will become the bride—this very night—of the highest bidder. Brother Pestifere,” she continued, nodding in his direction, “is in attendance this evening, so that the transaction may be completed without delay.” She paused for a moment. “You’ll be happy to learn, I’m sure, that since the emperor couldn’t be with us this evening, he will forego his right of priority to have her, as would otherwise have been his.”
Once again, the crowd noise grew as the men talked amongst themselves.
“Attention! Please, may I have your attention?”
Ting ting ting! The crystal chimes rang out yet again.
“Men. The rules!”
When the crowd quieted, Tanith continued. “Lest any of you think you might win this evening’s bid only to auction Chaya off further, please note that Emperor Zarek has approved this . . . event . . . in exchange for fully half the winning bid. He requested that I inform you that going forward, such shall be the law of the land.”
“You mean, she can be re-sold?” a man shouted from the back of the room.
“Of course, you are free to do with your property as you choose. However, as a mother, I simply could not sanction the outright selling of a child. No, this is not a . . . sale in the traditional sense.”
Laughter rang out, along with a few guffaws.
Chaya was shocked that Tanith even tried to convince the crowd of her good-heartedness.
“Emperor Zarek authorized me to offer my daughter to the man who will wed her for a respectable bride price. Again, his spiritual advisor, Brother Pestifere, will complete the transaction. Should you seek to terminate the union in the future, you will render the tax for such, to the emperor. Once done, should you decide to dispose of your property, you also shall render the one-half tax to him, as previously noted, for the transaction. So, if there are no further questions?”
Chairs scraped against the floor as several of those in attendance moved to get a better look, but no one spoke.
“Without further ado then,” Tanith said, “my daughter, Chaya.”
Behind the curtains, Cenka pinched the young woman’s arm. “Silence!” she ordered before stepping away.
Chaya glanced to the side where Sabra stood, pulling on a rope. Slowly, the curtains opened. She squinted at the sudden light and then gazed out at the audience, blinking rapidly and repeatedly.
Hundreds of guests, most of them men, filled the room. Here and there one rose to his feet for a better look. Some gasped. Others smiled. A few chuckled menacingly.
Her eyes flashed about, seeking a glimpse of Tanith. When she spotted the woman, a surge of hatred rushed through her being. Then, turning back to the audience, she lifted her chin.
“I remember almost nothing of the evening after that,” Chaya said after a quiet minute, having returned to the present, “except that I ended up with Cark.” Her eyes pooled with tears.
“How did he—”
“Afford it?” She grimaced. “It seems he’d just come into an inheritance—a very large one. He spent the entire amount to purchase me, and he’s never let me forget it. Because of it, he’s never been able to buy himself a better position.”
“But he’s never sold you.”
“He can’t afford to. He lost half his fortune with the taxes on his inheritance, then spent the remainder on me. The only way he could come out even—in his mind anyway—would be to sell me for twice the price he paid.” She smiled, though her eyes teared up. “No one would pay that exorbitant a price for someone previously owned. In fact, no one would pay half that price.”
The Oathtaker bit his lip, lost in thought. “So, when was that?”
“Seven years ago.”
“Dear Good One!”
Her eyes darted his way, dancing with recognition. “I knew it! Not only are you from Oosa—you’re a follower. A follower of Ehyeh.”
He swallowed hard. He wanted to kill Tanith and Cark. He wanted to help Chaya. The intensity of his feelings surprised him.
“I’m so sorry,” he said.
She looked away. “They’re coming,” she said as, imperceptibly, she dropped her black shroud back over her face.
He could think of nothing more to say. He knew that no words of comfort would suffice.
“Mansur,” she whispered, “please get me a weapon. Any weapon. Please.”
“Chaya, I can’t let you hurt yourself.”
“Oh no,” she interrupted as the men drew nearer, “it’s not for me. I’ve already decided that. I’d thought to do just that at one time, but no longer. I wouldn’t use it against myself.”
“You plan to kill him?”
She huffed. “One way or the other, I’m going to know freedom. If it takes Cark’s life to do it, then so be it. It’s just that he keeps all his weapons locked up at all times.” She choked back a cry. “Please, Mansur . . . in the name of the Good One, won’t you help me?”
With his back to her, he nodded, as the men neared. So intent had he been on Chaya’s story, that he’d heard nothing of their conversation, even once they’d come back within the range that would have allowed for him to do so.
“I’ll do my best,” he whispered, his head bowed so that no one could see his lips move.
Chapter Twelve
Over the course of several days, Reigna and Eden moved their things out to the cave, riding there whenever they could escape Lucy’s attention. Though as each dawn rose, they prayed Mara and Dixon would return, as each dusk descended, they found themselves still alone.
Finally, after completing their task, they left the compound. They made their way to a nearby town as quickly as possible, hoping their trail would be lost from there. Finding no sign of pursuit, they moved on.
A few days later, they sat in an inn waiting for their dinner, their hoods pulled up to conceal their identities.
The sounds of crashing pots and pans from the nearby kitchen invaded their space, while the convoluted mixed smells of ale and roast fowl, filled the air. Laughter and conversations of the locals who’d stopped in for a quick brew after a long workday, sounded out.
Overhearing a conversation at a nearby table where several ruffians sat, Reigna’s eyes flashed open in alarm. Tilting her head in their direction, she glanced at her sister.
“Yeah, we should be close ’nough tuh enter within uh coupla days,” came the gruff voice of a man who sat with his back toward the twins.
Eden placed a finger over her lips, cautioning her sister to remain silent.
“It’s too bad we aren’t close ’nough now,” someone responded. “There’d be no time like the present. We could just rush ’em in the dark. They’d never see us comin’.”
“Yup,” a third man agreed. “They’ve put so many resources on the north side ’at we should be able tuh make our way right intuh the cenner of their camp from this end with li’l effort. It was a well thought plan tuh sen’ a number of small groups in over time an’ tuh have ’em sen’ scouts back tuh report their findings.”
Reigna leaned forward. “The north side?” she whispered. “That’s the part of the compound where we’ve had such trouble. Could that be what they’re talking about?”
Her sister scrunched up her shoulders.
“Order some more ale, Nibal,” one of the men ordered.
“Forget it, Borka. We’re not stayin’ the night ’ere.”
“But, Kader,” ca
me Borka’s response.
“I said, forget it. I tol’ ya—we’re jus’ restin’ the horses an’ grabbin’ some grub. Then we continue. We still have a ways tuh go.”
Eden reached for her sister’s hand and squeezed it in silent camaraderie.
“Your dinner,” announced a server, slapping plates down by the twins before quickly moving on.
“We need tuh eat quickly an’ be on our way again ’fore nightfall,” Kader said.
“But it’s gonna be cold tonight. Can’ we stay ’ere?”
“Ya’re such a sissy, Borka. No, we keep movin’.”
“I still don’ understan’ why we’re tuh bring ’em back and not jus’ kill ’em. It’d be so much easier.”
“No one questions Zarek. It doesn’t matter why he wants the wimmin. It just matters ’at he does.”
“Well it took long ’nough tuh figure out where they are,” another man whined. “What’s it been? Twenny years he’s been lookin’?”
“All ’at matters, Nibal, is ’at we know where they are now,” Kader said. “Zarek says every day is a risk ’ey’ll become too powerful tuh take later. We have tuh succeed in this mission. He’s countin’ on us an ’e’ll pay us well fer their capture. An’ thanks tuh Platon’s success in gettin’ intuh the compoun’ cenner an’ spyin’ things out, we know right where tuh find ’em.” Kader slammed his mug down on the table. “It was fortunate fer us tuh’ve passed ’im as he ’eaded back tuh Chiran a while back.”
“What about their Oathtaker?” Nibal asked.
“What about ’er?”
“Platon says he overheard conversations—’at she’s very po’rful.”
“She won’t be when she’s dead. They’ve no idea we know our way in an’ aroun’ their camp.”
Eden leaned in toward her sister. “They’re Chiranians—and they’re talking about our compound,” she whispered.
“They’re talking about us. He said their Oathtaker.’”
“It seems so.”
“How’ll we know who they are?” Borka asked, intruding upon the sisters’ quiet conversation.
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