The stone tiles burned hot under Nyx's feet despite the early hour. The sun, having only just reached its own height above the horizon, burned fiercely down on the desert city of Ra. Sweat made furrows in the dust caked on the Omega's skin, her labors producing a shortness of breath and a weariness in her bones. Since dawn, she had swept the plaza clear of sand, she and the other servants preparing the marble-column lined space. The place always often made Nyx feel diminutive. It was large enough to hold perhaps five hundred people with room to spare.
Straw brooms dragged across the tiles made steady whisks, driving up dust blown in by the sandstorm the previous night. A tied cloth hung around Nyx's mouth and nose, keeping out the worst of it, though dirt mixed with sweat still stung her eyes. She stopped for only a moment to wipe her brow, planting her sweep handle firmly into the ground and leaning against it to examine the plaza.
Nearly five dozen female Omegas labored alongside her, their hair tied behind back with leather straps and similar cloths to Nyx's protecting noses and mouths. White linen robes cloaked their sun-darkened bodies, stained in various states of hard use and work sweat. Each worked meekly and hastily in their own designated square, pushing piles of dust into barrows to be wheeled away by male Omegas, their faces hidden in the shadows of their cowls. Then, taking pierced ladles from the buckets of water strapped to their hips, the women sprinkled water on the tiles to hold down any dust left over. Water was scarce in Ra and to pour it out onto the ground so willing brought a few tight grimaces and displeased grunts from the Omegas. But the wasted water was important for today.
The thought took Nyx's eyes from the sweeping servants to the podium in the center of the plaza. A simple, square block of polished marble about three feet in every dimension, it held a certain air of importance about it despite it was only used four days annually. Today was one of those days.
Reminded of this, Nyx took up her sweep again and shoved her collected lines of dust into a neat heap just as a man came to cart it away. He glanced at her once from the dark recesses of his cowl as she loaded his wheelbarrow. He said nothing, nodding slightly to her as he turned away, joining the steady line of men exiting the plaza. She reached into the water-filled container at her side and took out her ladle to shower her area with an artificial rain that the ground was quick to swallow.
As she did so, she was fully aware of Mistress Danjin's eyes glaring into her, as though she could burn the girl just by looking at her. The knowledge made Nyx's lips twitch. Mistress Danjin was a harsh woman, especially for the Omega females placed into her care. Copper-skinned and rounded like a peach with a daring chin, Mistress Danjin stood a full head shorter than anyone Nyx new. But the woman made up for it with a sharp, flaying tongue and beady black eyes that could stare down a lion.
Mistress Danjin ran a tight ship with her 'initiates', as she called them. The mornings started well before dawn with the sharp bleating of a whistle, followed by bitter cold morning jog twice around the Omega Holds. The last one to finish the laps was set to clean out the pits, a dirty, degrading job that left one stinking for days. This run was then followed by a brief period of time during which initiates had to make their beds, get dressed for the day and report for breakfast, each event marked by a whistle and a punishment for the ones with poorly tidied rooms or tardiness. Breakfast followed daily assigned chores until midday, when Omegas initiates were to report to the mess hall for eating at the sound of the whistle and a punishment for those too slow to arrive on time. Chores continued for the rest of the day, with the occasional off-time for women who had completed their duties ahead of time or pleased Mistress Danjin. The latter happened rarely. Then came dinner, again, marked by the sound of a whistle and more harsh punishment. Afterwards, the initiates, minus the ones unable to escape Mistress Danjin's wrath, were allowed to do whatever they wished with their time until dusk, when curfew came and beds were inspected to insure no women had slipped away to cuddle in a corner with a male or something of the like. Any who were caught out of bed were forced to wear rough dark robes and complete a series of pointless labor the next day during the midday meal when the sun was at its most intense.
Mistress Danjin was practically mated to punishment and reprimanding and their love child happened to be a whistle. Rumor had it that the woman had once yelled but someone had introduced her to a silver bit of tubing that let out a piercing cry and she had never looked back after that day.
The idea of Mistress Danjin without a whistle was about as comprehensible to Nyx as the idea of the sun rising in the middle of the night.
But today there would be no whistle-blowing, no pointless tasks for offhanded offenses. Not today. Nyx could have laughed and done a dance if Mistress Danjin did not stare so accusingly at Nyx. Then again, she glared at all the initiates and even some of the men, as though to blame them for the protection today brought.
Gathering her sweep and covering the buckets on her side tightly with leather caps, Nyx started off towards the edge of the plaza, following a growing line of women as more and more completed the only task they would have for the day. In the shade of a ceiling-covered walkway that lined the open area, she approached a rack already building up with sweeps and water holders.
As she set these down and moved to allow the women behind her to place down their labor tools, Nyx knuckled the small of her back with a satisfying pop before tugging down the cloth covering half her face. She inhaled a breath of cool air, the shade of the walkway chilling the sweat on her brow. Nearly three hours of sweeping floors had set an aching into her back and shoulders-an aching that she was anxious to be rid of.
"Come now, Nyx, you can't possibly be sore." A voice teased her from behind and she glanced around to find Anket.
The woman was nearly a head taller than Nyx, which wasn't saying much, and she wore her white robes with a kind of pride, her ebony-haired head held high in an uncharacteristic Omega manner. She acted like an Alpha, from the way she spoke to the way she walked, with quick, sure steps. She had gotten in trouble more than once with her uppity attitude towards Mistress Danjin but Nyx had a feeling the woman held a sort of place in her heart of hearts for her dark, slant-eyed initiate.
"I'm not sore." Nyx protested and placed her hands on her hips. "I'm simply stretching."
Anket laughed, a loud, boisterous laugh that often took others by surprise when compared to her queenly habits. Nyx was used to it. "I'll believe that when goats fly. I know all about you and last nights. . .activities." She finished with a wry twist of her rosebud mouth. A warm blush crept up Nyx's face, which only caused Anket to laugh harder before she took her friend's arm, hooking it with her own. Together they set off down the walkway.
"I really wish you wouldn't bring it up. We were only talking." Nyx murmured to the woman by her side, glancing about quickly to insure that no one was listening. They weren't. Omegas walked on either side of them, but all were either too far away to hear or talking within their own groups of two or three. Satisfied, Nyx continued. "Besides, Isolitor is just a friend."
That brought a frown from Anket, an uncommon sight. "You know as well as I that's not true. I've seen the way he looks at you. The man may very well be shouting his love for you from the bell tower."
"It can't be, Anket. You know that. Not after today."
Anket hurumphed. "You can be quite stubborn at times."
Nyx gaped. She was one to talk. The woman wouldn't drink one drop of water, even if she had spent a year in the desert, unless it was in a silver goblet. She loved Anket in a sisterly way but sometimes she was blind to the world around her. Including that fact that there was nothing going on between her and Isolitor. Absolutely nothing at all!
She had known the male Omega since the time she was a young girl first arriving in the Omega Holds. Only nine years of age, she found the umber-eyed, lanky twelve-year-old boy to be rather annoying. He pulled her hair and made lewd fun of her, which she often replied to with a burst of fury and a quick fist. The caretakers had found their childish rivalry both amusing and exasperating, especially when the pair had once insisted on not going within ten feet of each other and then later, when Nyx was eleven, competing in various competitions like wrestling in the dust and stealing hens.
This continued for a couple years and by then they had reached a sort of compromise after one particular incident including a pregnant cow, two Epsilon priests and an entire bucket of tar and feathers. Then, when Isolitor turned sixteen, becoming a man, things had changed. She suddenly saw less and less of him and in their few meetings when she was not doing chores and he was out of the Mens' Grounds, their conversations were strange and full of silence. Once, he had given her prickly desert flowers he had picked himself. Nyx remembered his bloody hands thrusting them at her as he told her with burning cheeks that they were for her. She had not quite understood then why the elder women had grinned at the sight of him and her.
It wasn't until Nyx had come upon her moon cycles and she was made to move to the Womens' Grounds, where the elder women explained how a child was concieved, that she realized Isolitor's stammering and bashful glances meant something. She had put him in his place though. A black eye and a stern warning was all it had taken.
The flowers stopped coming and his sideways glances had ceased. They were only friends now. She just wished the other Omega women in the Hold could see that.
"Hurry, Nyx." Anket tugged at her arm. "I don't want to be the last in the bathes. The water will be cold and there'll be no salts left. I've got to look my best for the Auction."
"Stop worrying. The stoves are always kept hot and they stocked plenty this morning." Nyx assured her friend but she stepped lively, her heart beating against her chest like a drum.
How could anyone forget that today was Auction day? They had been preparing for weeks. In a couple hours, she and the other women of the Omega holds would climb that podium in the center of the plaza to be examined by Alphas and Betas from the nine corners of the worlds; examined, fought over and then sold.
Males would not be Auctioned off today but tomorrow, done this way because there were often more females and Auctioning could last well until dark with no time for the males until the very next day.
Nyx followed Anket down the hall-the steady flow of women had now turned into a flood-to the bathhouses, where they would wash first in a shower of cold water, then sink into the warm, heated bliss of the bathes. Hair brushing would come next, followed by their nails being trimmed. They would be perfumed with scented oils and given charcoal to outline their eyes.
They would be made to wear scant clothing that showed off their bodily features, a strip of cloth that covered their breasts and a slit skirt cut all the way to their hips. A golden anklet would draw eyes to their slender ankles and a ribbon to match their eyes tied around their neck to bring attention to the subtle dips and curves of their collarbones and shoulders.
They would be made desirable and dressed like goddesses to be sold like cattle to the highest bidder.