There be Only One, Chapter 9 by patricia51

(I have inside me blood of kings)

(Damascus, 1685)

It was noon. The ancient streets echoed with the sound of the mullahs calling from the ancient minarets of the mosques. They summoned the faithful to prayer as they did the prescribed five times a day.

Katniss and Clove lingered in the shade of the outdoor eating place. Colorful dyed cloth kept them in the shade and openings in the potted shrubs around them allowed the breeze to help keep the heat of the day from them. They waited until the normal sounds of the day resumed.

Katniss stretched her legs while she sipped from the battered ceramic mug. She lowered it and sighed in satisfaction.

"It IS pretty good wine," agreed Clove, sitting across from her with her legs tucked up under her body. She sipped from her tankard. "I am rather surprised that here in the middle of a Muslim city we can get wine with so little trouble."

"It's strange," admitted Katniss, "even more so that as obvious Westerners there doesn't seem to be any real animosity towards us. There have been some strange looks but I'm pretty sure that it's because we're women out and about and dressed as we are rather than probable Christians."

Clove looked at her dusty boots, loose fitting linen trousers and a similarly cut long sleeve shirt. Her partner was dressed alike and still wearing the cap fitted with the cloth that draped down her back protecting her from the sun that Clove had doffed. "True. I'm glad that if there is some Koranic prohibition against dressing as we do no one seems interested in enforcing it. You know," she reflected, "One of the charges against Joan of Arc was that she wore male attire and look what happened to her."

"Stoning is much more these people's way of dealing with issues like that instead of burning at the stake," said Katniss. "However let's not tempt either fate. I don't know how far this 'dhimmi contract' extends." Clove nodded.

The whole thing showed how strange the world was, the English Immortal thought. Not long ago, well, by their time frame anyway, they had been witnesses to West and East, Christianity and Muslim, locked in a deadly struggle where quarter was neither given nor asked for. Now they were deep in the same Ottoman Empire that they had opposed and found that here toleration was not only the watchword but was fixed by law and custom.

The pair had been in Damascus now for several weeks, having slowly worked their way here from Vienna. They had traveled east before cutting south, circling most of the Black Sea by a series of mixed treks on horseback and short sailing trips. A final voyage had brought them out on the edge of the western half of Turkey. Based on what information they had gathered about the routes to China they had swung back to here where much of the overland traffic of the Silk Road started. Immortals or not they preferred to travel with a group.

Besides, they both enjoyed people. Neither really had thought they would. Katniss had always been a loner and Clove's family had moved from fair to fair and city to city, never settling for long. Deidre, Hugh Fitzcairn and Kyra had brought her out of her shell. And now that Clove was looking at the world through eyes other than those of her former companions who saw nothing but the next easy target or the next score that would keep them in funds for a while.

Not that Clove's past hadn't come in handy. She still grinned when she remembered the thief who stole Katniss's purse. Not that there was anything in it that the couldn't afford to lose since they kept all real valuables secreted elsewhere such as neck pouches and slits in the inside of their boot tops. But Clove had taken the theft as a challenge to her personal and professional pride. Therefore she had worked very hard, and quickly, to not only retrieve the stolen purse but to also relieve the thief of his own.

They had wandered the alleys and byways of this ancient city as well as the main thoroughfares, marveling at buildings that had been reared while the ancestors of both girls still lived in thatched huts. They strolled the colorful bazaars where goods from both east and West were offered. In their capacity as scouts against the Ottoman Army around Vienna both had learned the rudiments of Turkish and honed their skills haggling at the various booths they frequented.

Then they found the sword smiths. Sometime in the middle of the next century the art of making Damascus steel for swords would lapse and eventually be forgotten. But it was still in flower when the girls visited the city and they tarried longer than they expected in order to equip themselves with custom forged swords made of that steel, legendary for its strength and ability to hold a deadly razor sharp cutting edge.

They debated their next move. Fall was approaching and winter travel would be difficult. They had rented a house built in the traditional manner with a high-walled interior courtyard that provided them all the privacy they wanted. Although because of the age of the system the water flow was often interrupted they still had a rather sumptuous bathtub they could both relax in and often did together.

Katniss and Clove still officially considered that their relationship was that of companions and comrades. A thoughtful observer though would have seen much more to it, signaled for instance by the lack of personal space between them. They had long ago stopped being embarrassed at being nude together. In fact that same observer might have laughed at how both women looked and enjoyed the sight of the other when each was sure the other wasn't looking. Comments might be made of how they were always touching and how those touches often lingered. Most telling of all was that they usually slept together and slept close at that. But what was clear to that imaginary observer still was hidden from the girls themselves.

Although they were comfortable and happy they were both beginning to feel restless. They discussed going south to Aleppo, which was busier and had more merchant caravans. Many caravans left Damascus but the majority of them were taking pilgrims to Mecca in fulfillment of the "Hajj". They definitely would NOT be welcome on such a trip. Besides it was none of their business anyway to poke into the religious beliefs of others. They would leave that to Sir Richard Francis Burton whom they would meet a couple of hundred years later.

They ended up departing with a trading caravan that they had found employment with as guards. The caravan master had been rather dubious about hiring two women but a quick session of swordplay with the other guards had demonstrated their ability and they had been hired. There had been no need to reveal their other skills until the caravan was ambushed by a bandit gang while traversing a rocky gorge.

The first warning was when a horse suddenly reared, crying out in agony from the arrow through its chest and spilling its rider to the stony ground. More followed as archers hidden in the rocks above them loosed a stream of arrows. More attackers exploded from crevasses and rushed at the head and tail of the caravan.

There were plenty of guards. It was rare indeed that a caravan wasn't attacked more than once on the long journey. The camels and wagons carried riches. Spices from Africa, dates and other delicacies, glass from Egypt, tin from the island Clove once called home and many other expensive items represented wealth untold for the bandits of the wastelands. But caught off guard those guards could only fight back individually and were being individually surrounded and cut down.

The caravan master powerful voice rose over the chaos. He knew if he could pull his guards together into formation their heavier armor and weapons and better training could still beat the attackers back. But they needed a break. Then a scream came from somewhere above him and a body fell almost beside him. Skewered through the middle by an arrow a swift glance showed it was one of the bandits. He was still moving feebly so the caravan master thrust him through with his sword.

Another bandit toppled from the canyon top and then a third. The master looked around and spotted the source of the arrows even as yet another attacker fell. The taller of the two dark-haired, fair-skinned women he had reluctantly hired was standing on the ground beside her horse, a bow in her hands. She loosed an arrow and was rewarded by yet another falling enemy archer. Before he could blink she had rearmed her bow and fired again.

The arrows from above stopped. No surprise, after all the attackers were bandits out for loot, not soldiers so their sudden desertion was not unexpected. The guards began to rally and form a firm line to stop the attackers in their tracks. The female archer had turned her attention to the individual bandits attempting to climb in the wagons and attack the drivers, cooks and other caravaners. Then he saw a group charge her from behind and let out his best bellow to warn her but he knew it would not be in time.

Then the leader of that group of bandits dropped his cudgel and grasped his throat, where the hilt of a knife seemed to have magically appeared. Two more men toppled as the smaller woman threw with both hands at the same time with pinpoint accuracy. The remaining three were met by both women, now with swords in their hands and the resulting fight lasted no longer than the knife throwing had and with the same results. The women wiped their blades and stepped over the bodies of their foes.

By now the remaining guards had wiped out the bandits who had not taken to their heels the moment the battle turned against them. Everyone turned t the business of cleaning up, caring for the wounded and burying the dead. The dead from the caravan that is, dead bandits were stripped of anything useful and rolled into a handy ravine.

They then resumed their march. No more serious troubles affected them. By the end of the following year they had reached the city of Samarkand. Although in decline after the Uzbek rulers moved the capital of their Khanate to the city of Bukhara it was still a major stopping point on the route east. Here the caravan split. A portion was going south to India while the rest would continue to China.

"So, what do you think?" Clove asked one night.

Katniss looked around the small tavern that was attached to the hostel they had found rooms at. A bright fire blazed in one corner. Her feet on an extra chair she took a sipped of the mulled ale, or something like it anyway, and smiled.

"I think I'd like to stay right here until spring at least."

"Well," the English girl admitted. "We still have coin from our time in Austria; we have our wages from the caravan and that very nice bonus that the caravan master gave us for our efforts in the ambush. It's not like we're in a hurry. And after all, how much trouble can we get in here?"

(To be continued)