A curious classroom. Where are the parchments and plumes, the maps, the massive tomes of arcane knowledge?
Jaelle'n had been well-schooled by scholars and tutors from many lands in preparation for the time she might rule over Cymrydda as queen. Mayhap the instruments of learning were secreted in the far wall, but then, where were the seats and desks at which they would sit to study?
Her questions were soon answered, although in completely unexpected ways.
Pacing to a smaller rug at the end of the room, Madam Tanith folded down gracefully to sit, cross-legged. One of the young serving maids who had helped the women bathe the night before fetched several pillows, which she arranged around Madame Tanith's back.
"Sit," Madame Tanith said. She watched them, as with varying degrees of clumsy haste, each woman chose a rug and settled upon it. "Oh my, I've seen more grace among newborn foals! You do not drop like stones, girls. You do not fold up like a parchment, wet with rain! You sink as softly as thistledown, as lightly and gracefully as a butterfly lands on a flower. Rise and try again."
They must have gotten up and sat back down a dozen times or more before a one of them satisfied Madame Tanith's exacting specifications. Finally the acrobat, Jaelle'n, and three others were deemed to have performed acceptably. Inger and two others, surprisingly including the barbarian girl, were next. The other sixteen took even longer, but at last they, too, were allowed to remain seated.
"A great part of a woman's beauty is in the way she moves. You must each be aware at all times of your body, of every part of it, and of the manner in which you make each and every motion. There must be no jerks, no jolts, and no sharp or awkward movements. You will glide, you will sink delicately, you will move smoothly as a snake at all times. We will practice walking, rising and sitting, and all the motions you will normally make until this becomes second nature."
Thus passed Jaelle'n's first day in the House of Aguilar, as well as several more days following. The group advanced from sitting and standing, walking and turning, opening and closing doors to serving trays of food, drink, and other simple tasks. Once, in a moment of frustration, Jaelle'n almost threw a cup of water at Madame Tanith when handing it to her. In punishment, she received a sharp crack across the knuckles with a small rod that appeared as if by magic in the older woman's bony hand.
For a full ten-day, the only time the women saw a man was at the eating hall, and there they were segregated and not allowed to speak with each other. Glances might be exchanged across the bare space between the assigned tables, but that was all. And for all that time, Aguilar never once appeared.
While their days were spent under Madame Tanith's relentless tutelage, the women idled away their evenings in the bathing room. There, they were allowed to play freely with cosmetics, put combs and flowers in their hair, try different coiffeurs and sample a variety of perfumes and unguents to smooth and soften their skins and enhance their appearance. Except for Inger and Jaelle'n, most of them quickly established a partnership with another woman and worked together. Even the little barbarian had formed a bond with the acrobat, Jaelle'n saw, vaguely glad it had not fallen to her to end the shy girl's isolation after all.
Floating in the cool luxury of the bathing pool, Jaelle'n let her thoughts drift. Already one third of the time had passed in which Aguilar had boasted he could make them all into prime pleasure slaves. Had that been an idle boast, one made simply to put off the slaver he had obviously deemed unduly arrogant and needlessly brutal? Surely pleasure slaves had to have dealings with men. How did Madame Tanith's lessons, as exacting as they were, relate to that?
She both longed for and dreaded the time she would find out whether that boast had been for real. Three ten-days was a short time, and yet, taken day by day, it seemed to extend into infinity. And where was the lofty Aguilar, the great man who had bought them all? Had he gone off to acquire yet more slaves for his harem? That idea fueled a surprising wrath that sat her up in the water so abruptly, she had to swim before she sank. Curse him, anyway!
The next day began as all the rest, with the wake-up call, the morning meal, and the walk, all gliding gracefully now, down to Madame Tanith's classroom. Each woman had her preferred place, her chosen rug, and her arrangement of pillows. Each took her place and waited, wondering what torments Madame Tanith would devise for them.
The silence lengthened, but they all knew better than to whisper among themselves. That brought swift punishment, including having a scarf bound around your face so tightly that you could not talk, could hardly breathe. Jaelle'n had never earned that particular penalty, although she had occasionally performed badly enough to earn a crack on the knuckles or a sharp pinch.
Twenty-four heads snapped around at the sound of footsteps coming down the hall. Twenty-four mouths opened in shock as a group of men tramped through the door, entering what they had all come to regard as a private, male-free sanctuary--or prison. Twenty-four anxious gazes darted back and forth between their teacher and the men.
"Today," Madame Tanith said, "you begin the next phase of your instruction. I have taught you all that I can for now. The next phase will be one-on-one, as you learn those things required to please a Master. Men, you may select your student for today's work."
One by one, the handsome men from the dining hall chose their women. One by one, they reached down to take her hand, and one by one, the woman rose with careful grace to stand beside the man. Jaelle'n watched, a sudden anxiety quivering within her.
Cragen chose the little barbarian girl, Lathi. A towering man with powerful shoulders selected Inger. A lean, dark man took the acrobat, Altima. Suddenly, Jaelle'n realized there were only twenty-three men. She remained alone.
She faced Madame Tanith and blurted out her shock. "Why, when, what about me? Why is there no man for me?"
Madame Tanith ignored her, for her question was not posed in the proper form.
Biting back her anxiety, Jaelle'n tried again. "Mistress, why is there not a man for me? Do none of them wish to--"
She halted, recalling the admiring glances she had received, and puzzled by the fact no one had selected her. It seemed as if they had all planned in advance on who would pair with whom, but no one had chosen her. Surely it was not because she was less beautiful than the others.
Jaelle'n was only partly relieved by Madame Tanith's slight smile. "The plan for you is different. Come with me. I will take you where you are now to go."
Chapter 3
At The Feet Of Aguilar
* * *
Jaelle'n followed Madame Tanith through another maze of corridors. At last they came to an ornately carved door. Madame Tanith tapped lightly on it, but there was no sound from within. After a moment, she took a key from a small ring tied in her sash.
Beyond the portal was a large chamber, lushly appointed and dominated by a massive bed. Two wide windows looked out upon the courtyard in the center of the compound. Two thick cedar trees, positioned so they did not block the view, shaded the room from the afternoon sun. Through a door on one side, Jaelle'n glimpsed an elegant private bathing area. On the other side, an arched opening gave entrance to another room, although she could see little of it.
"Take off your robe," Madame Tanith ordered.
Although she had grown more accustomed to obedience during the last ten-day, Jaelle'n hesitated. Why must I disrobe? Am I to get new garments? When she saw the older woman frown, she quickly untied her sash and slipped the robe from her shoulders.
"Go to the foot of the bed."
As she approached the huge bed, large enough for four or five to sleep in with comfort, she saw a flash of metal peaking out from beneath the silken hangings. What have we here? She stopped, looking at the shining golden chains coiled at her feet. No! I will not be enchained again!
"Pick them up," Madame Tanith ordered.
Jaelle'n hesitated.
"Pick them up." This time, a quality in the words enforced obedience.
Jaelle'n found h
er hand reaching, felt the chill metal on her fingers. There were four chains, each ending with a carved hinged circlet. One pair was smaller than the other, and she held them, looking at them with a moment's stupefaction.
"Put one on each wrist."
Jaelle'n had to obey. The wristlets were delicate filigreed bands, which looked fragile, like fine jewelry. When she snapped them in place, they gleamed on her wrists, shining, taunting, rare and lovely and yet marking her as a slave. When she tried to unsnap them, she found she could not. She was fairly caught. Madame Tanith smiled. It was not a nice smile, or at least to Jaelle'n in her present mood, it seemed to be scornful and smug.
"You will wait here for the pleasure of your Master." Madame Tanith took up the robe Jaelle'n had dropped. "You will have no need of this for a time, so I will return it to your room in the women's wing."
She glided to the door, opened it and stepped out, closing the barrier behind her, leaving Jaelle'n alone--with her chains.
* * * *
Time passed at the pace of a creeping snail. During the day a servant brought water and a chamber pot for her to use. As dusk fell, the same servant brought her evening meal. The woman refused to speak and appeared not to hear Jaelle'n's urgent entreaties.
"Why am I here alone? What is wrong that no one comes? When will A--the Master be here?"
She found the chains were long enough that she could climb up on the end of the bed. As darkness settled, she did so, stretching out on the smooth silken coverlet, trying to ignore the dragging weight of the chains on her wrists. My ankles could be chained, too, she thought. I should give thanks for small blessings.
She understood now, thinking back over the events of the morning, that Madame Tanith had used power, the voice of command that could not be ignored or disobeyed. Jaelle'n had heard legends of such, among her people, but never before had anyone put that particular dark magick to use on her.
Lying alone in the dark, she wondered what manner of person the small elderly woman might be. Her hair was iron gray, her eyes a matching hue, and her skin the color of old ivory. She had sharp features and a fey look to her. Perhaps one of the elder races, now almost gone from the Earth. With a shiver of superstitious fear, she made the sun sign over her heart to ward off evil.
Jaelle'n waited for three days and nights, seeing no one but the mute servitor who tended her basic needs but offered nothing more. She spent half the second day tugging futilely at the wristlets. Although they looked fragile, she could not bend them at the hinge nor even find the spot where they locked, much less open the hidden mechanism that closed them tight.
The third day, even the mute servitor did not come. Her ewer of water was almost empty, and hunger pangs bit at her stomach.
He promised I would not be mistreated. He lied!
She fumed, pacing the short distance her bonds would allow, stopping now and then to lunge against the restraints. All she succeeded in doing was bruising her wrists where the golden bands bit into her flesh. As the day wore on, she nursed a sullen rage into boiling wrath, waiting.
The sound of the door opening snatched her attention. Was she to get food and fresh water at last? Aye, she saw the tray. Not borne by the small silent woman, but by a tall man, a tall golden man.
Aguilar had come at last.
"Well, pretty one, are you now ready to deal with me?"
She wanted to snarl like Lathi's sister had done. She wanted to curse and scream and throw things at him, preferably sharp and lethal things. But she was thirsty and hungry. If she threw even a tantrum, wouldn't she lose the chance to eat and drink?
"You lied," she said, "as I knew you would. You said I would not go without or suffer privation in your care. I have had no food since last eve and ran out of water long before midday."
"I am sorry for that. I had meant to be here sooner, but I was delayed in Challabadur. If you will ask me nicely, you can have all the food and water you desire."
She hated his nice smile, his calm, reasonable tone, his explanation, which sounded so sincere. He lied, he...damn him, of course he lied! "What do you mean, ask nicely?"
"I think you know. Think about it a moment."
She drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. Suddenly she was painfully aware of her nakedness. The only bit of her skin that was covered lay beneath the golden bands on her wrists. As his dark gaze slid over her from head to toe and back again, she felt it as keenly as a touch. She gulped, struggled to form the words with stiff lips and a dry tongue.
"Please, A--Master, may I have water and a bit to eat?"
"How about 'Please Master, may your humble slave have water and a bit to eat'? And it would be more effective if you were on your knees." His smile seemed canine, almost lethal.
"Damn you and damn your eyes." She said the words under her breath, but he obviously heard.
He smiled more broadly as he turned away with the tray.
She dropped to her knees, clasped her hands in supplication. "Please, Master, may your humble slave have water and a bit to eat?"
"I think she may."
He crossed the room and set the tray on the small table near the corner of the bed. Jaelle'n waited, still kneeling. He filled a cup with water from the new ewer and brought it to her. She reached, but he did not release the cup. Instead, he lifted it to her lips and tipped it, steadying her head with his other hand at the nape of her neck.
"You may have nothing that does not come from my hand, slave. Do not forget that fact. Nothing save what I choose to give you...not even life itself. One word from me and you die, either quickly or slowly, and with great pain."
At his matter-of-fact words, she gulped and jerked, unable to stop herself. Water and air bubbled down her throat, choking her. More water splashed down her body, a bit of it falling into the thick patterned rug on which she knelt. She coughed, spluttering and gagging, gasping frantically for air.
He rocked back, cup in hand, and watched her with an expression of surprise, which gradually turned to concern. Finally he circled, bent her over one arm and sharply slapped her back twice. A gout of water burst free, and finally she could breathe again. Painfully embarrassed to see the mess she'd made, Jaelle'n sank back to her knees and hung her head. That was no way to impress a man with your beauty and calm! She could almost hear Madame Tanith's chiding tones.
"What was all that about, girl? You must learn control! Do you want any more water?"
Jaelle'n shook her head, feeling her unbound hair slither across her naked back, abruptly more aware than ever of her nudity, of the fact her body was totally displayed to this strange man's view. She squeezed her eyes shut, pretending she was invisible as well as temporarily sightless. Her cheeks burned with humiliation as distress clawed at her heart.
"You had only a few sips to drink ere you choked. Surely your thirst is not quenched."
He refilled the cup and brought it back.
Reluctantly, Jaelle'n raised her gaze to his. "P--p--please, Master. May the humble slave hold her own cup? She knows that only by your grace may she drink."
It hurt to beg in that way, but she was not sure she could tolerate his touch right now, not at the same time she did anything else--like swallow, like breathe in and out. She could not bear to choke again, and who knew what else he might decide to say? Apparently he had a need to educate her to the realities of her situation. Realities too harsh to comprehend, although of course she must.
Fear knotted her viscera and compressed her lungs until she could hardly force in a breath. He could kill me. At will, on a whim, he could snuff out my life. I am nothing to him or to anyone else here--an ill-mannered dog, an intractable horse is worth as much.
Quite against her will, she felt tears pool in her eyes to overflow and trickle down her cheeks. She bit her lip to still its tremors.
He gave a harsh, gusty sigh. "Aye, you may hold the cup." He thrust it into her hands almost roughly and moved away, far enough to sit on the end of the bed.
Ja
elle'n drained the cup, taking care not to drink too fast, although thirst still pained her. The cool moisture soothed the rawness the coughing had left in her throat. When the cup was empty, she lowered it, letting her shoulders slump and her head droop forward. She had nothing left to buoy her pride, hardly a trace of will.
"More?"
"Not now," she whispered. "Too much and I will have to..."
He laughed. "As we all do, little slave. There is a pot under the bed. Have you not used it already?"
She nodded numbly, her face burning with the heat of mortification. "But I was alone. No one to see or even hear."
"A slave must be like any other animal and obey nature's demands. Only free folk have need of modesty. Do not imagine that I would take notice."
Her mouth formed a silent "o" of shock. She refused to look at him, sure she would see a gloating, scornful expression.
"Is the slave hungry?"
She did not answer, could not. She had been hungry, but now? The thought of food almost sickened her. Even the water sat uneasily in her belly, as if it sloshed around, bubbling and boiling like the surface of a wind-whipped lake. Salty sharp liquid burned up her throat, but she forced it back with desperate swallows. Eyes shut, she did not see him move, but heard a few faint sounds. Still, she jumped when his hand settled on her arm.
"Open your eyes, slave. I choose that you eat."
He had a small plate in hand, laden with a variety of tasty tidbits. He took up a succulent date, stuffed with honeyed bits of other fruit. When he brushed the tip of it across her lips, the sweet odor rose to taunt her. Her lips parted as if of their own will. He popped the date into her mouth and she found herself chewing it. After another bite or two, the turmoil in her stomach subsided.
One by one he offered the rest of the dainty bites, each one a tantalizingly different flavor or texture, an intriguing odor. He teased her lips with a fingertip as he fed her, brushing her face or throat when he drew back his hand. In a corner of her mind, Jaelle'n recognized what he was doing, for she had once tamed a wild colt exactly the same way.
THE TAMING OF JAELLE'N Page 3
