A/N: My computer is working again! Sorry for the long delay between chapters.

At any rate, Prince of Persia fans are really quick to review! Wow! Thanks for all your comments.

The Handmaid's Tale

By Jen

"He can't know anything," Tamina thought aloud after her spy had come and gone, leaving her alone with Rima in the wide, empty room. "He wouldn't have dared to call Sharaman mad unless he believed it." It had been her long habit to pour out her troubles upon the old woman's back, even since before her own mother had died. She had not indulged of late, but Prince Dastan had created a flurry of strange thought and emotion that Tamina could not untangle on her own.

Rima sat below her, dutifully applying beads of red henna to her mistress's feet with short pricking motions. So diligent and deft she seemed that Tamina was reminded of a blackbird stooping for the smallest crumbs on a walkway. Rima had not looked up from her labor, but from the slight furrowing of her aged brow, Tamina knew she had considered her words and deemed it best to keep silent. But Tamina could not mirror her companion's composure. She was sitting still, but her mind was racing. She could not pace, but she could speak.

"I wonder whose feet you will adorn when I am gone," said Tamina, full of a sadness that had utterly replaced her certainty of a moment before. "Will you go to your sister in Akesh?"

"No, I will come with you to Nasaf," said Rima, smiling, ignoring the dangerous turn she knew Tamina's thoughts had taken. Her wrinkled hand gently dragged the brush over the top of Tamina's delicate foot, creating a graceful whirl. "No Persian sword could keep me from you."

"I'm not going to Nasaf."

At last the old woman stopped and put down her tools, leaving the stars upon her mistress's feet half-finished.

"You must stop this nonsense. You have given your word of honor to the Prince and made him and all of us believe you were looking forward to the future. What reason do you have to do otherwise? Just now, you said that you didn't believe he knows anything . . . "

"Oh I wish I believed it, Rima!" cried Tamina suddenly. Her eyes were wet with tears, dark with fear. "But the way he looks at me . . . So knowing . . . the things he says . . . He has used the dagger, I'm sure of it. And even if he has not, his father knows."

"Sharaman knows nothing," Rima insisted. "Only legends and myths that have circulated for centuries."

"It is no matter," said the Princess. "I know my duty, and I must do what I always meant to do. I must go to the sacred temple."

Rima clutched her mistress's hands in her own, so that Tamina felt she was trying to anchor her in this world with the force of her grip. "You have not lived long enough to realize what it is you are prepared to surrender. Life is long! You might have children, happiness . . . "

"How well I know it! And believe me that I have not yet made up my mind. I will confess that when I speak or see Prince Dastan, it is not so easy for me to think only of duty. The idea of a life with him is so bewitching that . . . " But Tamina could go no further. She remembered how her heart had beat when she removed her veil and let him look upon her. When she had done it, it had only to been to lull him into revealing his secrets. But he had simply looked at her, as if she were the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. As if he life itself depended on her returning his loving gaze.

"He is handsome, yes," said Rima, urging her on, redirecting the conversation to a safer, greener path. "And brave, loyal, and kind. The servants were talking to his servants, and I am impressed."

Despite herself, Tamina found she could not resist. "Tell me more of what you know," said Tamina, leaning forward, and in doing so she almost dipped her foot in the bowl of henna, nearly mimicking the wedding ritual.

"Tush tush," Rima derided her. "You aren't a bride yet." She picked up the tool again, and set to work without appearing to hear Tamina's request. Knowing she had been trapped, Tamina nevertheless took the bait.

"Please?"

"All right," said Rima. And then she paused, cleared her throat, and waited until she was certain she had her audience's rapt attention. Then she began:

" Sharaman took Dastan from the streets before he had reached his tenth year, and had the boy declared a prince by law and consecrated before the altar of the Persian god."

"Such heresies," said Tamina, with a dismissive laugh.

"Do you want to hear the story or not?"

Tamina was silenced. "My lips are sealed."

"So Dastan became a prince, but he never forgot his old friends in all that time. He learned swordplay and languages, and wore all the trappings of a privileged youth. But when he was 15, he heard a rumor that his old friend had been sold into bondage to secure his father's debt."

"And the friend's name?"

"Bis," said Rima. "Now no more talking. And as I was saying . . . Prince Dastan searched for Bis's master and found a miserly old wine merchant living in the trade quarter of Nasaf. So he sent his servants to inquire, but instructed them not to reveal that their master was the king's youngest son.

"They went, therefore, in disguise, pretending to purchase wine, and while there they did indeed see Bis, a gangly, mistreated youth clothed in rags. And when they returned they told Dastan of the merchant's cruelty, for he beat his slaves and cheated his buyers. And of all the servants, Bis was treated worst.

"So Dastan sent for his manservant and dressed him in fine cloth of gold and silk and sent him to the merchant with a purse of gold, instructing him to buy a case of the most expensive wine."

At this Tamina started to protest. "But why did he not simply order his servant to collect Bis without handing payment over to such an undeserving man?"

"Keep quiet or I won't finish," said Rima, batting at the delicate silver bands around the princess's ankle.

"Yes, I'm sorry."

"So when the servant came dressed as a rich man, the merchant saw immediately how wealthy his buyer was and knew he had a chance to bargain, which at first the servant was happy to do. He called for more and more expensive wines, exciting the merchant into a frenzy. Eventually the large number of requests became too much for the merchant to carry. He called for Bis, his serving boy to help him.

"When Bis came into the room, the prince's manservant said, 'What a fine, sturdy youth. I could have a place for him in my own home.'

"But the merchant replied, 'No sir, this boy is like my own son.'

"And the manservant said, 'I would pay 500 gold pieces.'

"'No,' said the merchant. 'I could not sell him for 500. I could not even sell him for 1,000 gold pieces. He is like my own flesh and blood.'

"'For 1,500, then?'

"'No sir,' said the merchant. 'Not for 5,000.'"

"At this, the manservant replied, 'You drive a hard bargain, but would you sell the boy for 6,000 gold pieces? Surely he would receive good care in my household.'

"'No,' said the merchant. 'Not for 10,000 could I sell him. Not even for 15,000, for he is my very own.'

"At this, the manservant replied, 'Very well. Tomorrow I shall return with my master to collect the wine, and we shall talk more about the youth.'

"'Ah, but remember,' said the merchant. 'He is my very own, and I could not give him away, even if you paid me 17,000.'

"And with this report, the servant returned to Prince Dastan. The sun set and rose again, and in the morning the Prince and his servant came together to the merchant's house.

"'Ths is my master, His Royal Highness, Prince Dastan, and he commands you to surrender your care of Bis, son of Hamun, unto him, although he knows this will pain you as Bis is like one of your own sons.'

"And hearing this, the merchant said, 'I would gladly do so, sire, but this boy has been my bond slave for five years, and the debt he secures is 5,000 gold pieces. If you could repay me but this small amount, almost nothing for a Persian prince, then I could give him up.'

"At this the Prince became enraged and nearly struck the merchant. 'But yesterday,' he said, 'here in this room, you told my servant you would not sell Bis for even 17,000 gold pieces. Yet today you ask for 5,000! You are a liar.'

"And in Persia, as you know, a liar is worse than a jackal's ass. So the prince had the merchant hauled to the gallows, and Bis came to live in the palace."

Tamina had been leaning forward, with her elbows on her knees and her chin upon her folded hands. She found the ending to this clever tale unsettling. The prince seemed wise, generous, and dangerous all at the same time.

"What of the merchant's other servants?" she asked.

"Freed!"

"But is it true?" said Tamina, sitting up strait again. Rima had been dabbing her feet with henna all this while, but now they were finished. They had only to dry before she was free to move about once more.

"I heard it from Bis's own servant."

"A worthy man," said Tamina, who then stood up, ignoring Rima's chastisement for endangering her careful work. "How much I should like to know him better!"

"If you have cast aside all this foolish talk of self-sacrifice, I will tell you how the servants reach Dastan's chambers."

"For shame!" exclaimed Tamina, blushing red from the jab to her maidenly modesty.

"He goes into battle soon, milady! Would you deny such a man one taste of your 'sweet lips' before he goes?"

Tamina grew redder still as she recalled her earlier words to Dastan as they conversed across the grate.

"Suppose he finds one of Kosh's daughters in his bed and gives all your rights as first wife to her instead?"

Tamina shuddered at such a thought. "For 200 years the women of my family have pleased their husbands enough to be only wives. Do you suggest I will be different?"

"Then you shall marry him," said Rima, a look of triumph upon her face.

"If our secrets are safe, then I shall."

"Even if he knows them, I cannot believe he would tell," said Rima. "He has kept it a secret from you, even when you are most in the right to hear it."

Tamina shook her head, and found that her depression, her fear had returned. "You know even less of him than I do, and even I am uncertain."

Rima seized the train of Tamina's gown impulsively, kissing the golden hem that hovered about the intricate designs she had placed upon her feet. Tamina's movement had already smeared the pointed star, marring its symmetry.

"Mistress, I beg you to cease these horrible thoughts of death until you know Prince Dastan better. Promise me you will not go to the mountain temple until you are certain the dagger is compromised by an unworthy, dishonest man. For though I care not at all if the wells of Alamut run dry and its gardens wither, but you, whom I have nurtured from infancy are dearer to me than life itself. And I beg . . . I beg you . . . "

"Who is priestess here?" snapped Tamina. "You make my burden heavier than it is already. My duty is clear, but I too love life. But out of love for you, I can promise that I will do nothing until I am certain." And having said this, she retired to bed with a heart rent by thorns. She had prepared all her life for the moment when she could prove her worthiness by denying whatever desires she might develop; yet now that she could feel with them without the golden barrier of ignorance, life had become infinitely dearer. She had something to live for, and her earlier resolve to give it up seemed not only terrifying, but foolish as well.