In the minutes afterwards, I was caught by a pair of centaurs from the palace who had come running to the sound of Ka's shrieking. I had not moved; it hadn't even occurred to me to run away. I imagine the enormity of my action, or maybe even the realization of it, was still sinking in.
It was the last time I saw Ka in a very long time. I was locked in the palace up under heavy guard for a while, while everyone decided what to do with me. The aggrieved centaurs wanted to execute me, but Ka refused to permit it. There was nothing really stopping them from overruling him, he was just a kid after all, but they maintained Grandfather's cause and paid heed to my brother's plea. They persuaded him instead to have me exiled. I don't doubt that they were just humouring him with this, and that they were convinced that exile would finish me off just as effectively as execution, either by starvation or exposure to the elements.
The reason I think this is that when they dumped me in the desert wilderness, in an arbitrary spot a few weeks' sail from the palace (they were clearly keen to get well shot of me), I was without provision, shelter or weapons. All I had were the clothes I wore, which had not been changed during my imprisonment and journey, were still covered in dry blood, and did not include shoes.
As I stood on the burning beach with my feet in the surf, watching my jailers shrink back into the horizon, I felt a searing cold panic grip my mind. It was the first time I'd felt anything other than bitterness and fury since my impulsive act of violence in the palace. I thought of my brother, and anger pierced through my fear. Why hadn't he done something to protect me? He hadn't even shown his face since I'd been imprisoned. I realized that he must be delighted that the only obstacle between him and absolute power had removed itself.
If I stood perpendicular to the shore facing the sea I could tell from the sun that I was looking west, which suggested that I had been transported east, though this was not a certainty as I'd had no way of monitoring direction during the voyage. I turned around, and ahead of me I could see only a flat haze all the way to the horizon, which was part brown and part blue. To both my left and right in the far distance I made out the impressions of cliffs or mountains, though they could have been clouds. I wandered inland, picking a painful path through dry brush and stones, but it was only early afternoon and the heat soon made me retreat back to the water, as there was no shade in sight. I sat in the shallows and wrapped some of my clothes around my head to keep the sun off, but I got burned nonetheless. I also started to feel hungry, but I had no ideas about what to eat. I started to feel thirsty too, which was even worse.
It got cooler in the evening, but I felt too weak to go exploring. The temperature dropped low and I spend the night curled up and shivering on the beach. It might surprise you that someone who was so physically fit, and had spent her life training how to hunt and fight – in a word, survive – could be so un-proactive when finding herself in my situation. Please consider that, for the first time in my life I was encountering despair. Fear. Pain. Not to mention extreme hunger and thirst. I'd never had to deal with, even contemplate, these emotions before. It crippled me.
I spent three days on that beach. My salvation came, due partly to my deserters misinformed choice of a place to drop me. What they had seen as a featureless plateau turned out to be a pass through the coastal mountains (the ones I'd glimpsed in the distance on my day of arrival, and mistaken for clouds) that separated the land from the sea, and was as such quite frequently made use of by merchants and seafarers. Nevertheless, it was also due in the most part to unbelievable luck that I was found at all.
By the third day, I wasn't doing much to draw attention to myself. I was pretty close to death I think, because I don't remember being found at all (though there's always the possibility that that's my faulty memory at work again). My first awareness of my saviours came when I woke up, and it was dark, but I could hear a lot of new sounds that were not the wind or the water. I lay very still for a while and tried to identify what I could hear. There were voices, but they were indistinct, muffled by a crackling noise, and speaking a language that wasn't mine. After a while I deduced that there were three or four voices, probably men, and that the warmth I felt and the crackling sound were from a fire.
I moved my head experimentally, and my neck hurt. I tried other body parts, and all protested similarly. My skin felt raw, but I knew that I must be generally less ailing as I didn't feel as thirsty as before. I opened my eyes.
I was facing away from the fire, lying on my side, and apparently apart from the other people. Ahead of me was one triangular tent, sidelong, and I could see my shadow cast against it from the fire. To the left and right were more tents like it. I couldn't get much more from this view, and I was remembering my hunger, so I decided to turn over and find out more.
I pushed myself painfully onto one elbow, then tried to tilt my hips without rubbing my flayed back against the ground too much. Someone had wrapped me in a heavy black wool blanket. Then one of the men whose voices I'd heard noticed me moving, and started vocalizing excitedly. Suddenly I was surrounded by figures, and hands reached out to squeeze or support my feeble limbs. Someone pushed a cup of water towards my face, which I swallowed entirely without taking a breath. I said "Do you have food?" but they didn't understand, so I opened my mouth and jabbed inside it with my index finger. A hand pulled away my empty cup, and returned it a few moments later containing some lumps of something, which I did not subject to further inspection before scooping them up into my mouth. I think they were bread and meat, but I couldn't say of what variety. I wasn't in a fussy mood.
They all watched me stuff my face for a bit. All four of them wore black woollen cloaks and wrapped their heads in black cloth, so that only their faces showed. Their skin was darker than mine, they had dark eyes, and they had long thin straight noses. Each of their head-scarves was embellished around the crown with silver-coloured metal pieces, and the shoulders of their cloaks were embroidered heavily with pale thread in a diamond pattern. When I'd finished eating they looked at me expectantly and they spoke to me with a questioning tone, but I didn't understand. One darted his hand out and touched my cheek, which hurt on account of the sunburn, so I exclaimed and slapped his hand away, despite my weak muscles. He looked surprised, and his companions laughed and clapped him on the back.
Eventually they left me alone once they'd given up on engaging me in conversation, and I lay down and fell immediately asleep, feeling considerably better for the food in my stomach. When I woke it was a little after dawn, and the sky was all the colours of fire. I looked around and saw only a flat golden-brown horizon in all directions. Though the sand was cool beneath me the air was noticeably warmer, and the sky was clear. My new companions had already begun to break camp, and I saw for the first time the means by which they were travelling through the desert. I had never seen camels before, and was bemused at their disproportionately long, slender legs with broad feet, and the benign, apathetic expressions on their faces. There were around ten of them, tethered in a group, along with two medium sized yellow-haired dogs who were panting in the rising heat. I did not perceive their humps at first as they were all wearing elaborate cushioned saddles made from wooden frames and woven cloth. I took the elevated height of the saddles to be simply part of their design, and wondered how on earth to mount them.
I was offered a torn handful of bread for breakfast, which was crunchy with sand, but I wolfed it down never the less. I discovered that my blanket was another of the woollen cloaks, and it appeared that this was day wear as well as night wear, as the men still had theirs on. I wrapped my head up again and sat patiently off to the side, waiting for whatever was going to happen next. Some of the camels were loaded with the packed-up camp and sacks and boxes. The remaining four were to have a rider each, and the men decided amongst themselves who I got to share a camel with. The creatures knelt down to be mounted, which answered my earlier question, but even so the saddles were still so high that I had to be lifted on.
We spent the whole day riding across a landscape which barely changed. A container of water was passed up and down the procession, but my companion protested if I took more than a sip at a time. The cloak I was wearing scratched at my punished skin, but exposing it to direct sunlight was worse. The two dogs trotted along in the camels' shadows, and the only times we stopped were so the men could give them a drink, which was infrequently. I spent a while wondering how to explain to them where I wanted to go, but realized quickly that even if I did find my way back to Atlantis, I'd just be driven out again, or worse. I had been exiled by my own brother, my best friend. He'd betrayed me, and supplanted me as Atlantis' heir.
Our troupe stopped to strike camp as the sun dipped close to the horizon, and the sky turned from blue to blood-red. I discovered that the tents were not chiefly for sleeping in, but rather for housing the various sacks and boxes that were being transported, and the men slept around the fire. I did not join them though, and after our evening meal I retired to one tent, feeling an urge to be separate from the strangers.
The next day was more of the same. After two days I had a moment of interest as I saw mountains approach in the distance, but when we reached it it was less than a rock wall, beyond which was more unexciting desert. We travelled for about a week in this fashion, before finally reaching our mysterious destination.
My rescuers were by no means saints. Though they sacrificed a portion of their small provisions to me, they had their fun with me as well, though at least they gave me a few days to fully recover from my diminished condition before doing so. On the third night, I awoke to the realization that I was not alone in my tent. I'd never known a man intimately before, in fact I was young enough not to have spent much time dwelling on the concept. In my culture, as you will later see, sexual relationships between members of the opposite sex are reasonably unusual, except with the explicit intention of reproducing. This man smelled of sweat and wine, his body on mine as hot and heavy, and his beard (for he'd made it an occasion to remove his scarf) scratched my face. As such encounters go, it was not a good first one, though I've heard that for girls it rarely is. I struggled, but even though I was strong he was a fully grown man and overpowered me easily, pinning me down so that he could touch me with his lips. Anywhere he deposited saliva and sweat on my skin it burned, and when he forced himself inside me I felt like I was being ripped in two.
After he was satisfied, he rolled off and tried to lie beside me, but I curled up into an unresponsive ball, and eventually he left the tent, and me with my defiled body and mind. I hid behind some heavy sacks at the back of the tent for the rest of the night, but nobody else came in. The following evening I slept outside, because I didn't believe any man would try anything on me in full view of his peers, but I was wrong. I won't go into details, suffice to say that by the end of our trip I'm sure each of them had had their way with me at least twice.
We finally reached Mari, a trading city on the banks of the Euphrates, though they didn't call it the Euphrates at that time. The city was a mass of small square one story houses made from mud bricks, tightly crowded together without order, old and new alike. In the centre of the city on the west bank was an enormous palace (though nothing to compare with Atlantis' palace temple) the only building not built of mud, and surrounded by a wall the height of a man, just as the one the whole city was enclosed by as well. I walked with the men through the narrow avenues and streets as each one sold or traded his stock, and each transaction was lengthy and subjected to much negotiation. I wondered why they did not disband and continue their business separately, but I realized that there was some dispute over who would get to keep me. Eventually an argument broke out, culminating in one man falling upon another with his knife, and slitting his belly. I stood back in fright, wondering whether I should flee into the crowds, but the other people around did not seem surprised – on the contrary, many laughed, and shortly the aggressor and his victim were carried away.
I was left with the two remaining men, who bickered together until apparently reaching an agreement, whereupon they led me away to another part of town, where I was sold into slavery. Here too, much haggling and arguing took place, and I assume that the men tried to get a better price for me by claiming that I was a virgin, but the slaver was no fool and had me examined, just to add to my humiliation. Finally, money changed hands, which my escorts divided between themselves, and they departed.
In the slave market I found myself among men and women of all ages and complexions and in various states of dress or undress. Each wore a tag around their neck which was a square slip of papyrus imprinted with markings from an alphabet I didn't know, and suspended by string attached to the corners. I quite soon received a tag, and in an act of protest to this degrading treatment I rent it in half before the slaver's eyes. I came to regret my action, as he thrashed me hard with a stick which left bruises and cuts, and stung all the worse for my sunburn, and when I was presented with another tag I accepted it meekly. The slaver was tall and thin and clean shaven. He had a large beak like nose and big ears which stuck out, and his skin was dark tanned and leathery. He was always swathed in white linen which looked very baggy on his beanpole-frame, wore sandals which curled up at the end and gold-coloured rings on his fingers and toes, and he always had his stick in one hand and a pot of beer in the other, whenever his hands weren't otherwise engaged.
Among the slaves I could not find one who could understand me, or whom I could understand. I felt increasingly distressed at the prospect of a future in which I could communicate with nobody.
During the day we sat on straw mats beneath an awning (this slaver had about twenty slaves, though there were many more slaves and slavers at the market). Throughout the day I frequently heard screams, here and there around me, and realized after a while that they were the screams of slaves being branded, and after not too long I witnessed it at first hand. A middle aged woman slave was purchased, and after the money had passed to the slaver he led the woman to a brazier nearby, from which he withdrew a red-hot branding rod and held her down to press it three times against her wrist. I heard the sizzle of seared flesh and the woman's screams clouded my vision with terror. I trembled and wondered if this too was to be my fate. Once again, for those of you who know me now, this cowardice may seem somewhat out of character for someone who didn't think twice about plunging a knife into the neck of a fully grown centaur, but not far beneath my psychopathic exterior I was just a thirteen (or possibly fourteen) year old girl who had been abandoned in a harsh reality where all was upside-down, and everything that was good and familiar in life had turned to ashes.
I will skim over the details of the few days spent in the slave market. We got two meals a day of bread or some kind of grain cooked in animal fat, which was never enough to satisfy, but I can say that it agreed with my palette. At night we were shut in a room with a wooden lock, and it was cold and dark and uncomfortable, and without any designated latrine. Slaves arrived and slaves were bought, and inevitably so was I eventually. Coincidentally, on the day I was bought I had been given that morning an opportunity to clean myself. I and a couple other girls received a big bowl of water, some soap and a comb which we shared between us, and I stripped off naked to scour myself and my clothes of the accumulated filth of my voyage and ordeals in the desert. My hair took a lot of work as it was long and matted and falling out of the intricate braids it had been in when I left Atlantis, but I eventually got the comb through it and let it fall free to dry in the dusty air.
I also discovered at this moment the pendant I was wearing, which I'd forgotten about as it had been hidden in the folds of my clothing. The pendant was a bluish crystal which Grandfather had given each to Ka and me, which he said was cut from the ever-shining star above the palace temple. The crystal pendant was about the length and thickness of my thumb, and refracted spots of coloured light into my hand as I inspected it now in the morning sunlight. I had been wearing it because I had received it from Grandfather only minutes before I'd jumped upon him with my knife.
I took my wet clothes back to where the other slaves were lounging around, wearing only my slave tag, as I'd hidden my pendant inside my clothes in case the slaver got any ideas and tried to take it off me. So I was sitting naked in the dust, waiting for my clothes to dry, when two men wearing colourful clothes approached us, looked around, and then pointed me out to the slaver. I felt my blood run cold and I sat frozen as I watched the three men converse together, often glancing or gesturing at me. Then the slaver pulled me to my feet, and I was subjected to a rigorous inspection by the two colourful men, who poked their fingers just about everywhere, though I tried to twist my way out of the slaver's grasp. Then money exchanged hands, and I found myself being dragged towards the dreaded brazier. I screamed and kicked, but the slaver possessed strength which seemed disproportionate to his skinny physique, and within seconds I experienced the agony of the red hot branding rod on my arm. After that I don't know what happened, I might even have passed out. But what I remember next is passing through the high wooden gates of the Mari palace, escorted by the colourful men, and seeing before me a shining white building with many tall, domed roofs painted in different bright colours.