Persia2
For three days I was left unattended in an exotic cage with limited stimulation at my disposal. The books were written in a language I couldn't understand and had no desire to learn. My garden view proved uninteresting as there were only manicured gardens and reflecting pools, yet none who tended the grounds.
If this was to be my torture, I found it irritatingly boring.
Yet, for all of my frustration, it was still strangely calm, and as the hours stretched to days, I sat on my modest balcony and drew upon giant scrolls of paper, the rolled edges secured by rocks I found inside the planters.
Food was delivered to me beneath the door, and for a day and a half I refused, which was quite remarkable considering each meal was exquisitely presented, despite my lowly station. At first I suspected poison, though at last one of the twins pounded on the door at meal time and quite forcibly told me I had not earned enough respect to be wanted dead.
Thirst and hunger consumed me and I indulged myself alone on the balcony, my legs outstretched, my bare feet resting on the empty wooden chair at the small iron table with its multicolored tile top. Birds sang in the trees and brush and out of boredom I imitated them until one dared to perch itself on the stone balcony wall and eye me curiously.
Despite overall impatience with the world in general, if something truly interested me, I invested myself without question. I hadn't any idea what length of time passed, but I sat very still and watched the curious visitor hop along the balcony. I placed a crumb between us and sat back, waiting, watching until it fluttered closer and accepted my offering.
Small, black eyes like tiny beads from a doll stared back at me and I smiled inwardly, pleased by this colorful, bold intruder. I reached for my nearly empty plate and rolled another piece of bread onto the ledge. Cautiously the bird hopped forward and accepted.
This continued until I held the last crumb in the palm of my hand and waited patiently for the songbird to pluck it from my grasp. The bird turned its head to the side, hopped closer, and hopped onto my thumb. The sensation of its tiny feet on my flesh made me inhale sharply, but just as soon as it had perched on me, it hopped away and nibbled its reward.
At supper, my brave guest returned and I rewarded his company with bread and mimicked chirps. Birds called to one another as the sun set and I imagined they were jealous of the song bird's meals. I marveled at this creature's trust and at the prickle of his feet against my hand, then the flutter of wings. Several times I considered snatching it out of the air and caging this foolish creature, but I had no desire to break its trust.
Despite my tumultuous past, I entered Persia with a great deal of innocence.
The following morning, the bird had the audacity to wait for me on the table. I chuckled to myself as I pulled out the chair and sat with a bowl of fruit, honey, and several slices of bread. I ate in silence and watched the impatient creature dance closer, then retreat until I finished and held out my hand for him to perch before I rewarded him with his own meal.
He had barely flown onto my outstretch hand when he let out a squawk and tumbled backward onto the table. His tiny form rolled off the table and onto the ground and for a brief moment I sat motionless, unable to comprehend what I had done.
At last I glanced beneath the table and found the bird dead, its yellow beak open, its beady eyes blank. With my heart racing I knelt and gathered it in my hands and found a dart the length of my finger jutting from its yellow breast.
"Animals are filthy," I heard the sultana say. "My beast will not have the pleasure of a pet."
I set the small body onto the balcony and stood very still, unable to tell where the voice had come from. It sounded as though she stood within my apartment, though the room was empty.
"A wild animal is not a pet," I replied. My muscles tensed and I waited for another dart to pierce me through the chest, impale me as it had done the songbird.
"You have no idea where I stand," she said, her words filled with amusement.
"No, I do know where you stand," I corrected.
"Then look at me."
I turned away from the balcony and gathered my empty plates and prepared to shove them beneath the door. "I have already told you, Sultan's daughter, I challenge all set before me."
And then she stood before me, seemingly borne out of the dark gossamer curtains blowing in the morning breeze. My muscles contracted, breath caught in my throat as she deftly cut off my path, her blade in hand, which was once again pointed at my throat. I paused abruptly, gaze trained on what I suspected was a false threat.
"Aren't you lovely this morning," I said as I stared at her.
She stood unflinching before me, not the slightest quiver of steel at my throat.
"And what entertaining conversation from the Sultan's ravishing daughter?"
"They await my command," she whispered, her voice like the hiss of a rattle snake.
Eyes narrowed, I stared at her black veiling knowing she was not intimidated by my presence in the least, yet I felt my breath hitch in trepidation.
"I could signal to my favorite archer and you would no longer have your right eye," she said. "Or my favorite swordsman and you would writhe in agony from your busted kidney." For a long moment she paused. "Or perhaps my most adored chef sprinkled a little poison onto your breakfast and you would beg for the mercy of my archers and swordsmen."
"I beg for nothing," I replied.
There was truth behind my words and she nodded once, though I wasn't sure if it was in appreciation or if she found me ridiculously assured.
She withdrew her blade, but before I could react, she jabbed me in the thigh, the tip piercing where my leg met my groin and instantly I stepped back and the dishes fell to the ground, shattering at my feet. Blood poured from the wound, a flood of crimson against the soft, cream fabric. I inhaled sharply as I pressed both hands against my upper leg to staunch the flow of blood, and as I bent, an arrow sailed past my ear and a dagger hissed past my arm, the blade catching my sleeve before it clattered to the ground. The little sultana turned and walked into the curtains where she seemingly disappeared into the wall.
"I assure you, they didn't miss," she assured me. "Rest, my toy, I shall retrieve you soon."
When I looked out onto the balcony, there was no one in view. The dead bird, I noticed, was also missing. If not for the broken dishes and puncture to my thigh, I would have considered it a vivid dream. I cursed under my breath as I limped back onto the balcony and continued to hold my hand over the wound. It was a small yet deep puncture, and it hurt much worse than I would have expected. For an hour I remained stock still, unsure of who still watched me or what they intended. With each passing second, I expected the Sultana return.
The following morning, she came for me. Just as I expected.
-0-
Arden and Kamil were interchangeable at first. Neither man said much when they were near and they both possessed the strength of a bear. I had no idea who was sent to retrieve me, but whichever man it was stood ten paces away and watched my every move as I dressed.
"Open your mouth," he instructed.
I grunted. "You're supposed to examine a gift horse before the purchase."
He grabbed my jaw and forced my mouth open. "Good," he said.
I knew he searched for weapons, which also meant he was taking me either before the Sultan himself or his daughter. I wondered if assassination attempts had happened in the past but thought it better not to ask.
"What happened to your leg?"
"Your Sultana," I answered.
He never even blinked. "You are fortunate."
I shrugged. "Is this a Persian's sense of fortune?"
He didn't bother entertaining my thoughts and grabbed me by the arm, effectively dragging me from my apartments without saying another word.
Every corridor looked the same and I counted my footsteps and paid close attention to the direction which we traveled. It was easy to memorize as my escort said nothing from the moment we left to the moment we arrived in a large, rectangular room with a single chair in the far corner. Mirrors adorned the walls and torches lit the room.
"Stay here," he said.
Just where in the hell he suspected I would go I had no idea, but I nodded nonetheless and stayed with my hands clasped behind my back. Left alone, my anxiety escalated and I held my breath as I waited and listened for footsteps, the click of a door, the unsheathing of a sword.
Moments passed and my breaths turned steady rather than ragged. I knew she watched me like a spider perched within its web, waiting for me to let down my guard. I wondered if she smiled behind her veil, pleased with herself for how I reacted.
If this was a game, then I wished nothing more than to play and deal my own hand. If she wanted to kill me there was nothing I could do to stop her, which in its own twisted way was a relief. If I showed no fear, I was at her mercy.
Death had never been a fearful subject to me, though I had always felt as though I lived and breathed hell. Physical pain I could tolerate, and I stood taller and dared her to challenge me on any level. I had survived the first thirteen years of my life living beneath my father's cruel hands and then close to a year being beaten and displayed by the gypsies; I would be damned if a woman behind a veil threatened me.
I lifted my chin and exposed my throat, then spread my hands and held my arms loosely at my sides and waited, anticipating the pierce of an arrow or the stab of a dagger. My agitation grew as I stood alone and unharmed.
"Damn," I said under my breath.
There was no answer to my curse and I strolled boldly across the room and seated myself in the chair as my injured leg grew fatigued.
I was certain a full hour passed and nothing of interest occurred. To my surprise, one of the twins entered and looked equally surprised to find me seated in the corner.
"To your chambers," he ordered.
I stood and rejoined him, regarding him a moment as he waited for me to step close enough so that he could grab me by the arm.
"I have no desire to put up a fight," I said smoothly.
He looked me over, then nodded toward the door. "Walk."
I returned to my apartments, he shoved me inside, which I considered was more for show than anything else, and the door was locked behind me.
The following day the same sequence took place and I immediately went to the chair and seated myself for an hour before I was lead to my chamber and retired for the night in a warm, comfortable bed. My leg throbbed and I suspected the start of an infection as I had not cleaned it as well as I should have.
At dawn, when my breakfast arrived, I took the honey and spread it onto my leg over the wound, then ripped apart one of my shirts and used it as a wrap over the injury. Hours passed and there was no pounding at the door and no twin to fetch me from my solitude and parade me down the hall. For a fleeting moment I longed for my days with the gypsies, who never fed, clothed, or housed me in such impeccable surroundings, yet never tormented me with endless boredom. The thought amused me; years of my life wasted in their company suddenly seemed almost tolerable.
I likened myself to the dogs the gypsy kept, which performed twice a night. The three animals were kept together in a single cage until needed for their part of the act, at which time they sprang out, danced and leapt before a crowd, and then all too readily returned to their age, as was their routine. The Sultan could have saved himself a great deal of money if he had invested in gypsy dogs.
As if knowing my thoughts, my apartment door flung open and there stood the twins with the Sultana carefully tucked behind them. Though startled, I remained where I sat on the balcony in loose trousers, my shirt hung over the chair across from me.
They offered no conversation, so I continued to eat in silence, though with each passing second I became wary of their presence. The incident with the bird was still in the forefront of my thoughts.
"You do not cringe at the sight of me?" she asked casually. The twins parted at her words and she stepped forward and drew her blade again.
I was no stranger to physical pain, though mostly the strike of a fist or a kick to the belly came without warning. For the longest time heavy footsteps down uneven stairs led to anticipation of pain, or the smell of alcohol made me tense. Now I wondered what would condition me; the mere sight of food, the serenity of sunlight and a soft breeze, or the sight of a veiled woman. I suspected all three would eventually knot my stomach.
She stood over me and I realized I had stopped eating. Slowly I turned to face her, this woman without a face, and I nodded.
"Care to join me?" I asked.
She laughed, which I hadn't expected, and I sat back, chilled from the sound of her mirth. She tapped her thin blade on my shoulder and I flinched, but either she didn't notice or she didn't care.
"You amuse me, my toy," she said.
The blade continued to tap my shoulder and I waited, anticipated her piercing my flesh. In my mind, I imagined each fall of the blade to my bare shoulder as a drum beat and filled in the pauses with cellos and violins until the start of a symphony came to me. I have no doubt she would have impaled me had she known my attention faded from her and I retreated into my own thoughts.
"Walk with me," she said.
The twins stepped from her and flanked me, and I gave a heavy sigh as I placed my fork on the edge of my plate and waited for them to haul me to my feet.
"You do not care to walk with me?" she asked. The blade lowered, the tip pointed at my groin.
"I don't care for routine," I answered as the twins hefted me from the chair and gripped my bare arms so roughly I grit my teeth.
She nodded once, and one of the twins immediately ripped my mask from my face. I jerked to the side, despite knowing it was useless, despite my complete understanding of her tactics. She bent toward me and paused for a long moment and I wonder if she truly stared at my visage or if she simply closed her eyes and waited, drawing out the seconds.
"Oh, but my pet," she said, her voice low. "You have no idea how much this pleases me."