On Azrael's Wings

by D. Jordan Redhawk

  “All right. Have the prisoners delivered in the morning. You gave him my authorization?”

  “Aye. He said all the papers were in order.”

  “Good. I’ll attend the auction. See that I have four guards assigned to me,” Azrael said, rolling up the parchment. “Anything else?”

  “No, Lord.”

  The general clapped Suma on the arm. “Take some leave; you deserve it.”

  “Aye, Lord,” the blond agreed with a smile. He bowed and retreated.

  Azrael continued to her tent. To the guards she said, “Unless it’s one of my officers or an emergency, I’m not to be disturbed.” That at least would give her tonight without Provey visitors.

  “Aye, Lord!”

  Inside, she found her slaves kneeling. As usual, Midia had food and drink waiting. How the woman knew her mistress was approaching and get fresh food to the table before her arrival was a mystery Azrael had yet to solve.

  She sat down and eyed Ursula. The brunette already anticipated Azrael’s touch; her flushed skin and quickened breath gave her away. Deciding to change tactics, Azrael said, “Midia, attend me.” The slight movement of Ursula at the unexpected order was not lost on the general.

  “Aye, Milady,” the blonde said, rising. She filled a plate of food and set it before the dark woman.

  “Have either of you eaten?” Azrael asked, accepting a mug of wine.

  “No, Milady.”

  Azrael grabbed the slave’s wrist and tugged her forward. “Do so,” she ordered, nibbling the tender wrist. “You’ll need your strength.”

  Midia smiled and licked her lips. “Yes, Milady.”

  Releasing the blonde, Azrael said, “Ursula, eat.”

  “Yes, Milady.” The brunette rose and prepared a plate, head down.

  As she ate, Azrael watched the dejection in Ursula’s stance and smiled. It was one thing to arouse a woman - an easy task when the proper actions were taken. It was quite another for the woman to actually desire the touch. Ursula wanted more kisses and touches, had apparently looked forward to them and was disappointed when they were not forthcoming.

  Eating in silence, Ursula reviewed her behavior for the day, finding nothing lacking. She’d been obedient and truthful, had finished all tasks well and with an even temper. Why then was Midia attending their mistress this night? Was Lady Azrael tired of her so soon? Would she be sold with the others on the auction block? Were her kisses not sweet enough?

  With supper finished, Azrael sent Ursula to the kitchen to return the dirty plates and retrieve a pot of hot water. Upon her return, the slave found Midia straddling their owner, arms entwined about the dark neck and kissing for all she was worth. It seemed to Ursula that her fellow body slave was doing the seducing, not the other way around.

  Blushing scarlet, the brunette placed the bucket on a chest near the bed. In the other, she rummaged about until finding a cleansing salve, washing cloth and linen. Unsure of what to do, she knelt nearby.

  It was difficult keeping her head bowed. With all the nighttime serenades Ursula had endured, the urge to verify her imaginings with reality was overwhelming. Cautiously, she peered at what was taking place before her.

  Midia still straddled their mistress, but she sat straight, head thrown back as Azrael dined on her throat. Pale hands grasped dark skin and hair, inflaming the general. Beneath the slave’s translucent wrap, Ursula could see Azrael’s hands sliding along Midia’s skin, constantly moving, one disappearing forward between their bodies, another delving southward.

  The table blocked her view and she gasped as she found herself craning her neck to see clearly. Flushing, Ursula ducked her head, swallowing hard against a dry mouth and praying she hadn’t been caught out.

  Azrael, ever aware of Ursula’s attention, smiled at the fearful confusion in the slave. Whispering in Midia’s ear, she gave the blonde one more rousing kiss before releasing her. Rising, she said, ”Ursula, attend me.”

  The brunette’s heart pounded, certain her wandering eyes had been noticed. “Yes, Milady.” She trailed her mistress to the hot water.

  “Undress and bathe me.”

  Drawing a shaky breath, Ursula whispered, “Yes, Milady.” Her hands trembled as she worked the laces of Azrael’s tunic, the steady stare of black eyes not easing her trepidation. As was her wont, the brunette chewed her lower lip as she drew the tunic over her mistress’ head.

  Neatly folding the cloth, she gladly took respite in turning away to set it aside, brief as it was. Ursula sighed and returned to her task, swallowing hard as she attempted to ignore the dark skinned breasts before her.

  Ursula fumbled with the leather ties of Azrael’s breeches, head down and hair hanging to hide her scarlet skin. When finished, the brunette paused, wondering if she should slide the breeches off from her mistress’ waist or tug them down at the legs. Azrael sensed her confoundment and took the slave’s hands, hooking their thumbs at the waistband and beginning the process.

  Halfway down, the hands left hers and Ursula finished the task. She knelt to help Azrael out of the legs, a hand on her head balancing the woman. When finished, Ursula made the mistake of looking up, her gaze captured by the tuft of curly hair before her.

  Several moments passed and Ursula was certain the gods had sucked out the air in the tent. She couldn’t breathe, or move. Her knees were rooted to the ground and she had a nearly overwhelming urge to lean forward and nuzzle her mistress.

  Azrael watched the brunette carefully, forcing herself to wait, wiling Ursula to take the slightest initiative. The slave broke out of her reverie, glancing up with fearful eyes before hastily rising to her feet with the breeches.

  “I’m sorry, Milady,” Ursula said, wringing the clothing more than folding it. “I don’t know what came over me.”

  The tableau broken, Azrael said, “I do.” She turned Ursula’s face toward her, smiling at the now familiar consternation. “You’ll not have lips to kiss if you keep gnawing at them so.” Her grin widened when those lips suddenly stilled. “Go to bed, Ursula. Midia.”

  Opening her mouth to protest, Ursula barely caught herself. “Aye, Milady,” she whispered, a knot in her throat. She finished folding the breeches, laying them down before trudging to her pallet. Eyes stung as she curled up on her side. What was wrong with her? Was she so unpleasant compared to Midia?

  Ursula fought her tears, listening to the trickle of water and their murmurs.

  Chapter Seven

  Azrael woke before dawn, forcing herself out of the warm bed with dissatisfaction. Ursula helped her dress as Midia scared up a cold breakfast from the kitchen. They ate quickly, the slaves then working together to dress their mistress in her armor. A soft voice outside indicated all was ready and Azrael led her body slaves out of the tent.

  The sky was graying in the east, the air crisp and cool. Seven mounts, saddled and waiting, were before the general’s tent. Their nickering and the ring of tack was muted as if purposely keeping silent until the sun arrived and proclaimed daybreak. All but one were warhorses and five had riders. Azrael took the reins of the sixth warhorse and waved at the sturdy pony. ”Midia, you and Ursula are to ride this one.”

  “Yes, Milady.” The blonde took the reins from the handler and clambered up. She helped Ursula behind her, scooting forward to give the brunette more room.

  Azrael swung into her saddle, the soldiers and Suma following her lead. She waved her captain forward and they led the way out of camp and toward the city gates.

  “Good morning, Lord.”

  “And to you, Suma,” Azrael acknowledged. “Did all go well this morning?”

  “Aye, Lord. Twenty-four prisoners delivered to the auctioneer’s holding pens. All paperwork in order.” He inhaled the refreshing air. “I took the liberty of arranging for Ishtay priests to pick up the children. There’s an orphanage somewhere hereabouts.”

  “Good work,” the general complimented.

  Further discussion was delayed by their arrival at th
e gates. Guards there gave a cursory inspection, eyes lingering on the weapons before waving them through.

  “Any word from Idonatra about the goods?” Azrael asked.

  Suma shook his head. “No, Lord. He and Atol spent most the afternoon going over the inventory with several likely buyers. That’s all I know.”

  The highest buildings began to glow with a patina of sunshine as the group traveled half deserted streets. Moving further into the city, they veered off the main street, cutting through smaller alleys. More people shuffled about in preparation for another day as the sun rose. Runners delivered messages and goods between early opening businesses. Beggars sported rags and various handicaps, some real and others not, looking for scraps to eat. Several shop keeps threw wide their doors and windows, displaying their goods on long tables outside.

  Bypassing a drunken pair snoring in a gutter, Azrael’s party came into a large square. In contrast to the rest of the city, many shops appeared long open, doing brisk business with the gathering crowds. Sunlight crawled down one end of the square, illuminating a large wooden platform standing six feet high and the two men scrubbing it down.

  “We have a balcony there,” Suma said, pointing to a building near the stage. “They’ve a stable round the side.”

  Ursula gawked at everything having never seen so large a place. She noted where the captain was pointing and realized several buildings had spacious balconies. Rich looking individuals already occupied many of them, lounging in comfort above the burgeoning crowd as they nibbled pastries and watched the comings and goings.

  Azrael guided her mount to the building, her armed attendants keeping beggars at bay. Nodding to the occasional merchant or lordling who acknowledged her, she otherwise ignored the local power structure. Tonight’s dinner would give them plenty of time to ply her with false flattery and wine in ridiculous attempts to gain the King’s ear.

  The owner, a razor thin man who bowed repeatedly, met them at the entrance, expressing his undying gratitude and happiness at the Lord’s visit to his fine establishment. As Azrael and her group dismounted, he frantically waved for a couple of boys to take the mounts. Flushing with pleasure, he led them into the tavern, escorting them up the stairs and to a room at the end of the hall.

  Two of her guard entered first, scouting it out while Azrael remained in the hall, assuring the man that no insult was intended to the security of his business. It was simply normal procedure to guarantee her safety in this day of rebels and revolutionists. Mollified, the thin man returned to bowing and smiling, asking if he should have food and drink sent up.

  Suma turned him down as the guards proclaimed all was well, allowing his general to enter unmolested. He paid the owner and sent him on his way, requesting they not be disturbed.

  Azrael breathed a sigh of relief when the door closed, shaking her head. She preferred remaining with her troops or being home to dealing with the bloated importance of the aristocracy or the obsequious blather of common folk. In her army, her troops respected her for her prowess and ability to lead; at home, she’d earned the loyalty of her servants and slaves and returned it. In either case life was simpler and far more pleasant.

  The room was smaller than Ursula expected, wide double doors opening out onto a balcony that was a bit larger. She assumed the establishment’s claim to fame was its proximity to the auction block rather than food or service and was utilized accordingly. A bed and table hugged the left wall with several cushions piled in one corner. To the right were a desk and a handful of chairs scattered about on an elaborate woven carpet.

  Azrael went out on the balcony, two guards flanking her as they took position on either side of the doors. Midia urged Ursula to help her move a padded chair out to their mistress. As soon as she was seated, the two slaves bustled about, making things more acceptable for a Lord and general. The bedside table was placed beside Azrael and several cushions were strewn around the chair, many piled high enough in front of her to form a makeshift footstool.

  “Lord Azrael, I’ve instructed a man to bring food and drink,” Suma said at his general’s shoulder. “I told him to select random vendors.”

  “Good.” Azrael waved her slaves to the cushions on either side of her. “Will you stay for the bidding?”

  “No, Lord,” Suma said. “I’ll see to the children’s release then return to pick up the proceeds from the auction. A full accounting will be on your desk before midday.”

  The dark woman lounged backward, indolence in every line as she set a booted foot against the railing, playing her audience on the other balconies. “Very good, Captain. Dismissed.”

  Bowing, the blond man backed away and disappeared.

  Ursula, seated at her mistress’ left, gawked at her surroundings. In the time it had taken to get settled on the balcony, the crowd had grown by half again. The mass of humanity milled about, buying food from wandering peddlers, chattering and yelling to one another, or doing as she was by simply watching others. On the platform, the cleaners left and a handful of jugglers took their place to entertain prior to the auction. The sun marched higher and the brunette was glad for the awning above; already beginning to warm, it promised to be another hot day.

  A hand on hers startled Ursula and she jerked, seeing Midia pointing toward the room. With a nod, she followed and found that Suma’s soldier had returned. The desk held a large platter of food - slivers of fruit in small pastry cups, clever webs of sticks that held still sizzling fried trout, an assortment of cheeses of all colors, several varieties of bread plus thinly sliced meats. Amazed at the obvious work that went into some of the items, Ursula was loath to spoil their beauty. She caught a wink from Midia and grinned at her foolishness, preparing a plate for their mistress as the blonde left to serve Azrael tea.

  Bringing the laden plate, Ursula set it on the table and curtseyed. “Milady.”

  “Thank you, Ursula. Be seated.” Glancing over her shoulder, Azrael said, “Swordsmen, help yourselves.”

  A chorus of agreement met her ears and she could hear the two guards inside availing themselves of her generosity. Cups and plates were passed to the two outside.

  “Midia, Ursula, you as well. It would be a shame to waste these artistic endeavors,” Azrael said, taking a bite of thick brown bread.

  “Yes, Milady.”

  With delighted eagerness, Ursula picked over the platter, adding bits and pieces of things she’d never seen or tasted before. Soon she was seated on the balcony, plate in hand, a mug of water placed nearby.

  Despite having breakfast, the brunette cleaned her plate, finding many new favorite foods in the process. She stopped once to refill Azrael’s plate but was otherwise left undisturbed. Finished, Ursula drained her mug and rose. “Would you like anything else, Milady?”

  “No, I’m well, Ursula. Thank you.”

  Upon returning her plate inside, the slave couldn’t help but pinch one more piece of white cheese before refilling her mug. Once more she returned to kneel by her mistress.

  “Heilsa!”

  The noise from the crowd died down as a man stepped onto the platform. He was barrel chested and bandy legged, an incongruous combination more likely belonging to a crippled beggar than a successful trader. Dressed in linen, he shuffled about with arms held high as he gained the audience’s attention.

  “We are well met today, fellow citizens,” he called. “I’ve twenty-four fine women from Lord Azrael!” The auctioneer waved at her balcony before bowing deeply.

  Azrael paused from picking her teeth, saluting in acknowledgement with one of the sticks used on the fish.

  “Additionally, I have an assortment of field and household slaves available, two with brick layer experience.” Rawley continued his circuit of the platform. “Later, three beautiful pleasure slaves have been brought for your attention. I am told that their dancing will suck you dry long before their lips touch your flesh.” Grinning at the round of guffaws, the trader said, “It’s time to begin!”

 
; Puzzling over the joke, unable to comprehend why it was funny, Ursula watched as several women were led to the platform. All were naked save iron shackles and collars that adorned wrist and neck, linking them together. Their flesh was bone white where clothes once covered them. Shivering and mewling, they were lined up by a handful of guards for all to see.

  The first in line was pushed forward and the trader began cajoling her virtues. “Firm flesh, strong back and legs. She’s pretty enough and has most her teeth. I’m told she’s good with children and baking. What am I bid for her?”

  As men called out their price, Ursula’s mouth fell open in recognition. The woman being sold was the baker’s wife from Theara. Her eyes traveled down the line of women, finding them all from her village. It occurred to her the only reason she was not alongside them was because of three soldiers who tried to rape her. Only her mistress’ intervention had saved her from this public degradation.

  Unable to breathe, Ursula gasped and sat forward. It was one thing to know the surviving women would be sold. The reality of the situation, however, was far too much for her and she struggled against fainting.

  A warm hand caressed her back and she heard someone calling. Turning her head, Ursula fell into concerned dark eyes.

  “Ursula?” Azrael said. “I swear, if she’s been poisoned I’ll have your head,” she growled at the soldier who had retrieved the food. “Ursula! Look at me. What’s wrong?”

  The brunette swallowed, feeling sobs well up in her throat. “I… I was almost…” She stopped and inhaled deeply. “She had a son and a baby.”

  Frowning at the non-sequitor, sudden comprehension filled Azrael’s eyes. “Ah… I wasn’t thinking,” she admitted. With a shake of her head, she held her cup to the slave’s lips. “Drink a bit.”

  Ursula obeyed, sweet mint cutting through the dry ash in her mouth.

  “Here now. Turn around and lean against me. There’s no need for you to watch.”

  Laying her head on her mistress’ thigh, Ursula sighed and let tears take her. Soon she felt comforting hands caressing her hair. A towel was put in her hands and the brunette used it to hide her face.