Private Tales Many Forms of Thirst

[Kailyn]

"I heard he lights maidens on fire," Aurora whispered next to Kailyn, huddling close to the wagon piled high with the Sparrow's precious belongings.

"Don't yah think kissing a fire giant would hurt? All that magma," Samson chided, shifting the sack of grain on one of his broad shoulders.

Kailyn's pools of honey amber were the only things visible as she shuffled next to the house slaves fleeing with the Sparrow family on the dark tunnels that would lead them under the walls of the city and into the dunes of the desert beyond. The rest of her flesh was wrapped in cloth of rust along with a sunset-orange cloak. If it were up to her, the family would've fled with only what they could carry on their backs. This wagon of possessions screamed high rankings and was likely to draw attention and slow them all down. She also would've made the slaves wear royal garb and swapped for slave clothes. In this, she was thankful the Sparrow family was not so shrewd but oh so prideful. Because likely, it would've been her life on the line, the slaver's mark on her wrist well hidden.

She'd spent half her life in this city and it was strange to leave it all behind. For all their failings, the Sparrow family was generally fair. Perhaps kind to their slaves on a good day. And Kailyn had worked hard to get to where she was within the household and it would be a shame to have to start all over again. Apprehension twittered in her veins at the sudden unknown.

"Shhh," eyes flickered between Aurora and Samson. Samson actually outranked her in the household but seemed readily to follow Kailyn's lead. "We're coming to the exit. Rumors were the army surrounding the walls was massive. Let's hope they are not camped outside."

Samson sobered up and Aurora gulped as she was ordered to open the bunker door. At first, the light was blinding as it lit up the darkness of the tunnels they'd been shuffling in for the past half hour. Senior Sparrow set his massive jaw and urged the caravan forward, the slaves taking the first steps into the unforgiving desert air.

 

[Gerra]

They were camped outside.

A group of figures with spears stood outside, robed head to toe in cloth of black or white so that the harsh sun could not scorch them. At their head, in black robes, was a man taller than any of the others. His eyes smoldered like the sun above and he did not hold a spear, though there was a mace hanging from a belt loop.

The warriors leveled their spears as soon as the caravan emerged.

It was a trap.

 

[Kailyn]

Senior Sparrow hissed from clenched teeth. Aurora nearly fainted. Samson gave a low whistle. Kailyn's eyes snapped instinctively to the tallest man. If he was who she thought he was - who Aurora clearly thought he was - then this was a ballsy move.

Did he take the city so easily as to afford himself a position here? To cut off the runaways.

There was no retreat and Senior Sparrow knew it. He raised his hands, sitting atop the wagon as his wife sat tall, shoulders back. Though her lower lip trembling gave her away.

"Please. We mean no harm. Take what you will but leave us enough to travel the dunes." His wife made a choking sound as if giving up their possessions was a personal offense. The man eyed those spears and the tall giant of a man. "The slaves - you can have the slaves but leave us that one." Senior Sparrow hastily pointed to Kailyn.

Aurora decided to faint at that moment as Samson gave a huff of indignation at being tossed aside as the head household slave. Kailyn was thankful for the shadow of the cowl she could hide her expression in.

 

[Halul]

The Emperor could walk so close to the walls because of the man that stood in his shadow. The only masked one out of the line of spearmen, Uvogin stood with his arms folded behind his back. The cape that cascaded down his back fluttered with the light breeze.

"No guards," he spoke to Gerra, "just the family and slaves."

Uvogin snorted. Gerra had no need or desire for their riches or slaves. The captain found it comical that the patriarch thought he would be able to make demands, given where he found himself. With a quick glance down the line, Uvogin saw how steadily the spears were held.

"What would you have me do, Gerra?"

 

[Gerra]

“Take the family, liberate the slaves,” commanded the Emperor of the great rivers and all the land between them.

“Bring me the one they showed interest in, show her to my tent.”

Without another word, he turned and walked away.

 

[Kailyn]

Samson blinked and knelt next Aurora's slumped form. Kailyn's eyes widened. She'd never been free her entire life.

...liberate?

Senior Sparrow and his wife cried out. He jumped from the wagon trying to flee, leaving his wife behind who wailed as the speared men closed in. He didn't get very far. Kailyn stood frozen to the spot. Every instinct told her to run but her mind knew there was nowhere to go. She frowned, feeling as though she'd heard the cloaked and masked man's voice before. Some memory...

There was a strong grip on her arm as she was tugged in the wake of the fire giant. Hood fell to her shoulders as she was jostled forward her face no longer in shadow. Honeyed-eyes squinted in the bright, afternoon light.

Being contrite was probably the right play here.

Probably.

 

[Halul]

Uvogin strode forth as the Sparrow was subdued and men circled the wagon. The captain clicked his tongue at the two other slaves.

"Take valuables from the wagon. Go back to the city. Live in peace."

Spearmen grabbed the slave that Gerra had ordered to be taken and began to pull her, but Uvogin intervened.

"Take your hands off of her," the mask shifted between the soldiers, and they froze in place, unable to even respond to the fearsome captain. He waved them away before turning his attention to the slave. He did not take the time to get a good look at her as he was focused on his duties.

"Come."

Uvogin did not care about the family or their belongings and led the woman back to the camp. After several minutes of walking, they finally arrived. They approached the largest of all of the tents, and the captain held the curtain open for Kailyn to enter before him.

"The Emperor awaits. Speak to him with respect."

She entered, and he followed close behind.

 

[Kailyn]

Kailyn was wary. It was clear this masked man was high up in the ranks for the Emperor. She'd been used to playing her game of chess for so long. Became...comfortable even. As comfortable as a slave could be.

And now she was dealt a new game entirely. A new board. Or was there even a board?

Her mind was racing even as she kept her features perfectly schooled. She'd learned that lesson quickly in the slick, slummy, rocky streets of that Cove smuggler's den. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the shade of the tent. Dusty boots padded on thick carpets.

She could sense the masked soldier follow closely behind her but focused on the Emperor himself.

Kailyn dropped to a knee, ordinary brown hair dipping over an ordinary, youthful face as she bowed her head.

"Your grace."

A calming breath. A tightening of slender fingers on one knee.

 

[Gerra]

Gerra day cross-legged on a rug filled with pillows in the Abtati fashion. His features were hard as stone, smooth as obsidian, and unreadable save to the few who knew how to trace the emotions on his face like veins of precious ore.

He did not nod or acknowledge Uvogin, for such would be a pointless gesture. The man knew his value already and did not need petty thanks for doing his duty.

Instead, he studied the girl before him, with her brown hair and dirtied features.

“What is your name? And why did the man not want to part with you, are you his concubine?”

 

[Kailyn]

Two bright amber eyes like swirls of mixing honey flickered up. She couldn't help it at that last question. It was common in this land. And she was used to the treatment of women in a certain way. Hell, she'd been born from a whore house in Cerak At'Thul.

But Kailyn had been fortunate, strategic, very clever, or a mixture of all three to avoid that type of position her entire life.

His appearance and oh so casual made her speechless for a moment. Hair like the burning, setting sun. Eyes like smoldering coals. And he was tall, even sitting down, his muscular form towered above her.

"Kailyn, your Lordship," those pools of Amber flickered down like she'd been taught all her life. A reminder of her position. A delicate clearing of her throat. "No. I handle most of their affairs with trade routes. Their business."

It was clear she had the skills to read and write. Lips pursed, debating on whether admitting to the next part. She remained silent, instead, asking a question of her own.

"Pardon my boldness but are the rumors true that you sacrifice maidens to the fires?"

 

[Gerra]

The emperor snorted.

“Hardly.”

He eyed this woman with her skin so fair, seemingly untouched by the harsh sun of Amol-Kalit, and wondered if she had lived here for very long, or if they had simply kept her indoors. It would seem to corroborate her tale that they used her to handle their mercantile matters.

The emperor beckoned toward the rug. "Please, sit. They must have trusted you very much to put you in charge of such affairs. You can read, write, do numbers?"

 

[Kailyn]

A slow blink.

The emperor god-king was saying please to her? While it should've put her at ease, she felt a little more unsure. She moved slowly, knowing the guard was still close by. She had a feeling the masked figure could cut her throat before she had a chance to tuck hair beneath her ears and she didn't want to give him the wrong idea.

Legs shifted beneath her to cross. Fingers folded nervously in her lap. Ink stained her index finger and thumb. They betrayed her as an artist and a book keeper. Eyes lifted again, and this time, didn't look down. A slight nod of her chin, a chin she'd always thought was too sharp.

"I can, m'lord."

If only Samson had stayed to ask the man his question about kissing.

"Are you always this polite to slaves?"

 

[Gerra]

Eyes like simmering coals glanced at her hands, noting the ink stains. His own hands had once been calloused and rough from hours spent at a forge or on campaign, but those callouses had disappeared after he had conquered Annuakat and Ragash. Baths of oil and slaves who scraped away dead skin saw to that, leaving him smooth as polished stone.

"I am, or at least I try to be," he said with a voice deep as the earth and rich as volcanic soil.

The emperor looked past her at Uvogin. "You may go."

Then he turned toward a small circular table that sat nearby. Upon it were a number of bottles, two kettles, and several cups.

"Would you like wine, Kailyn? Coffee? Tea?"

 

[Kailyn]

Gerra might also notice the trident tattoo behind her left wrist. Or the fire brand of a sparrow behind her right one. All marks of her entire life being spent as a slave. The former from Cerak At'Thul and the latter being from the Sparrow family. A quick glance was spared over her shoulder at the dismissed masked guard. But her full-attention was quickly returned to the stone-like giant.

There was something about his voice that resonated with her, like the moving veins of fire deep beneath this land. And for a moment the amber in her eyes seemed to flicker. Or perhaps it was just the trick of the light streaming through the opening of the tent.

Fingers came up to tuck muddy-brown behind the curve of one ear.

"Tea," she said meekly, hoping for a taste of the rare mint-leaves often found in tea of this region. "I must admit," she hesitated, hoping she had the freedom, or a moment of it, to speak candidly. "You make me quite nervous. There are many grand stories that surround you. I did not expect to see you as my masters had us flee the city, let alone, sit in your company sharing a cup of tea."

 

[Halul]

Following a subtle nod to the Emperor, Uvogin exits the tent and stands guard outside.

 

[Gerra]

"Sometimes I find a moment in the midst of this to share tea with a stranger."

He poured steaming liquid from the kettle into a cup and handed it to Kailyn. Their fingertips brushed. The emperor looked down, noticed the tattoo and the brand, but said nothing. A slave such as her would have many stories to tell. When she wanted to tell them, she would.

"They are moments I enjoy." He frowned, brows knitting together. "I know of the stories."

But do not deny their truth.

"Perhaps the tea will calm your nerves."

Memories of dark, stone halls, towering braziers, and a voice that boomed like thunder swirled in his mind. He knew what it was like to stand before a being of power and wonder at his fate.

He locked gazes with her.

"...Do you fear me?"

 

[Kailyn]

A small startle at the brush of his fingertips against her dirtied knuckles. She didn't know what she was expecting. Perhaps to be burned? But his touch was...warm like an inviting fire after a winter's night or a hand slipped into a glove. And she felt a power within her that sometimes came when she was...

Fingertips tightened over the delicate china cup. Trying to still the thrumming within her. Cup was brought to her lips, partially hiding her expression. Eyes returning Gerra's gaze through a mist of steam.

"I fear the sides of any man they don't readily show." A breath from her lips across the top of the teacup, holding his gaze, having to look slightly upward to do so. "Do you mean to keep me as one of your slaves?"

 

[Gerra]

A moment stretched between them, almost as if he might be considering just that, until he said simply “No.”

He sipped from his own steaming cup without blowing to cool it.

“I think I will free you, but I would like you to work for me. You are a talented woman, Kailyn, with sides I do not think you would readily show.” His lips twitched into a smile.

 

[Kailyn]

A wobble of her teacup but to her credit, no liquid was lost over the edge of the rim. Mostly steady hands, even under pressure. Couldn't help twin mahogany brows raise along fair skin.

Lips parted, then closed.

Freedom?

Kailyn didn't even know if she could fully grasp the meaning. She'd always belonged to someone else. She'd be lying if she never wondered what it would taste like on the other side and here she was, about to find out.

Thinks he will free me?

Those brows settled and scrunched before smoothing out. She didn't realize her eyes had cast downward, studying inked fingers that cradled the china. Ornate patterns in the rug she sat upon. Shyly, they began their climb back up until she found sets of molten.

"I find it difficult to believe one such as you would be lacking talent in your retinue. And there have been many to offer freedom to a djinn but few to actually do it. I am honored to be thought of so highly within a short amount of time and by you, no less."

A sip of tea.

"What is the nature of work you are looking for?"

And so would begin the negotiations.

 

[Gerra]

He watched the workings of her lips, her brows; the demure cast of her eyes. He knew that look. It was the face of someone used to pain and abuse. A face familiar with the cruelty of those in power. A face so often stained by tears that she must have thought that her eyes would run dry and she would have no more tears left to cry. But the well of suffering runs deep. How could he blame her for her disbelief?

“I need someone I can trust. Someone smart with numbers and trade, but unaffected by greed.”

He set his teacup down and extended a hand palm up and flat.

“Give me your hand..... could you be such a person? Can I trust you?”

That intense gaze stared into her eyes, searing away the surface level platitudes and searching for the soul of the woman within.

 

[Kailyn]

Kailyn certainly had reservations about taking the offered hand. And her response was something akin to as long as I can trust you. Trust worked both ways. A part of her wondered if she would've been able to walk out of that tent without taking the half-fire giant's hand. Make a life for herself as a free woman somewhere else. Perhaps far from the lands of Amol-Kalit.

The other part of herself saw an opportunity. Here was a powerful ruler asking for her help. Could she walk away from such an offer?

Perhaps one day far into the future.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

A few weeks later, she was set up with her own, modest home. Two small bedrooms, one of which was used as a study and library, with a balcony overlooking a corner of the Gardens of Narmaka. She had it on good authority that the Captain of the Immortals and Gerra himself had similar views, though, she couldn't see their balconies from her viewpoint. She was facing a different end of the gardens entirely. There was a rectangle reflecting pool with lily pads and exotic fish swimming within the shallow waters.

After spending half her life on Cerk At'Thul, the fish weren't what drew her. It was the multi-colored flowers around the pools. Bright, vibrant colors of all types, sizes, and shapes. When the wind was blowing right, she caught the sweet, heady, pungent smell from the balcony.

Since agreeing to take charge of Gerra's trade and routes of the Empire, she found herself working well into the night, burning her last candles down to a waxy-pool. She'd often wake having fallen asleep at her desk, scroll ink imprinting on the side of her face where she'd drifted off. It was one such morning that she found herself rather...distressed. What happened hadn't happened in a long while. And perhaps she'd been dreaming.

Fingers trembled as she gripped the paper, wandering through the back entrance of the gardens, wearing a red dress with a gold belt - colors of the Empire. It was strange how folk looked at her when she walked the streets. One, they actually noticed. Two, there was an air of respect.

Both peculiar things for a slave - almost missing what it felt like to be invisible.

Sandal-clad feet took her on a path toward the emperor himself, weaving through the hedges. But she paused. Was she losing her mind? Trembling fingers drew up the paper they so tightly gripped. Perhaps it was better not to bother the god-king. She hesitated.

 

[Gerra]

The emperor stood amid the garden, eyes closed, chin tilted slightly up so that the rays of the sun warmed him. The many streams that fed the ziggurat's staggered gardens cooled the air so that despite the heat of the sun above, Gerra felt he might have been in a temperate forest rather than the far west of Amol-Kalit. The smell of salt came on the breeze from the ocean, glimmering in the near distance. It mixed with the scent of the gardens. Gerra kept his eyes closed so he could drink the sensations in, the fruits of his conquests, so far removed from the sulfuric rot and industrial smog of Molthal.

He did not wear a crown - he did not need to - and he wore only a simple black tunic and pants, with reed sandals, though he had discarded those so that he could feel the grass beneath his toes. After all this, he did not wonder why successful warriors often became fat and foolish. There was much to enjoy in life and he would savor these rare occasions when he could partake in them.

 

[Kailyn]

Movement shifted at the corners of her vision. At Cerak At’Thul that usually meant someone was trying to kill you. Take a scrap of food that you’d fought to pull from a rat’s mouth. Sometimes the rat itself was the delicacy.

But she wasn’t on that slaver island anymore.

She was surrounded by beauty. Not rock, disease, starvation,and death. And there he was, Gerra.He almost looked human, standing there. Almost.

“M’lord,” amber circlets shifted to the emperor. “I would like your advice about something. But if you’re too busy...,” her hand was clammy now. That gripped the paper.

 

[Gerra]

That voice. Tremulous, but sweet, like wind chimes. Blow too hard and they might shatter, but a gentle breeze coaxes forth their song.

His eyes opened.

“Ah, Kailyn. Come over here. Do you smell the lilies? Wonderful.”

He inhaled deeply, then let the breath out, turning to fix her with a gaze that burned.

“What can I do for you?”

 

[Kailyn]

Sandaled feet drew closer on the grass. Grass. A luxury . “There are many scents in this garden that come as a novelty to me.” A quiet response with a distracted look.

The former slave took a breath and squared her shoulders.

“On my passage to this land from Cerak At’Thul something happened in the bowels of the ship. I drew a picture of an apple in the dust of the floorboards. And do you know what happened?”