Disclaimer: I steal a lot of things. Dakarai (Ardeth), Nefertiri (Evy), and my chapter titles come to you care of Chris Isaak. But Chanda is mine, so HA! Now in Technicolor!
Seti was understandably angry, but rarely had his Medjai seen him so enraged. The pharaoh was not shouting, cursing, or throwing things about. It would have been almost comforting if he had. Instead, thunderclouds billowed behind his eyes and he spoke in low tones and short, terse sentences. Dakarai almost wished he'd not said a word. It's possible Seti would have never known the difference. Until she was asked to dance, of course, but Dakarai suspected that this was not what the pharaoh had in mind when purchasing her. The thought made something foreign and fiery rise up in his stomach. Jealousy? Of course, as it seemed Dakarai was able to pick this girl's face out separately from her peers, he was placed in command of the chariots that would seek the woman out.
Nefertiri sat silent and horrified in the gold gilded chair next to her father's throne. The Indian man's eyes were still open, staring up at the beautifully arched, vaulted ceilings. She was not accustomed to the sight of death, and she could hardly catch her breath for shock. The rage emanating from Seti was perhaps even more unnerving. As his daughter, she'd never seen him in battle, or even after, as Rameses had. She looked around the room for a friendly face, someone, anyone who could deliver her away. Her handmaidens were not present; they'd likely run out when the man had fallen to the ground. Finally, she saw Hamadi crossing the room towards the throne stand. Relief flooded her and her heart leapt to her throat. He always had a knack for showing up just in time. Hamadi bowed deeply on one knee and Seti, who'd just sent Dakarai and the other Medjai out of the room, acknowledged him.
"Your majesty, if it is your wish I could escort the princess to her chambers. I think the present circumstances are perhaps stressful for her highness." Hamadi offered. It was always best to make it sound like one's suggestions was what pharaoh already had in mind.
"Yes, Hamadi, take Nefertiri and see to it that she gets rest," he nodded. He then looked around the room and frowned deeper, "And try to track down those hand servants. Tell them they are not to leave her side ever again." Hamadi bowed his head deeply.
"Yes, your majesty." He confirmed before averting his gaze to Nefertiri. Eyes like the Blue Nile. They never failed to catch her off guard, but she stood and followed the armed man out of the throne room, careful to stay as far away from the body as she could. She felt for the poor man. It was clear he helped the dancing girl escape, and she knew what a sacrifice it must have been. She could only hope her father would be gentle with the foreign woman once she was captured. And she would be captured. Nefertiri knew Dakarai well enough to know she'd see the Indian woman again.
The dancing girl had been careful leaving the city, but not nearly careful enough. Dakarai started searching the streets of Thebes, and it wasn't long before Dakarai's men found an old man in a positive uproar about his prized camel being taken. After calming the gentleman down, they were finally able to gather some information. The fence rails had been lifted out of their cradles, and a clear set of camel tracks lead out of the city and into the desert. She'd not followed an established trade route, so the prints stood out in drastic relief. Dakarai led the three chariots and ten horsemen out of Thebes. She had several hours on them, but she and the camel would have to rest. The pharaoh's horses were champions. It was only a matter of time before they caught up.
Chanda was, by now, leading the obstinate camel through the sand. She'd veered away from the trading route that ran along the Nile, hoping not to be seen. If all were going to plan back in Thebes, it would be days before Seti knew she was gone. In the meantime, she was fighting her mount for every foot of ground. She'd seen camels in her travels and knew they could be ridden, but the bouncing gate had given her nothing but a sore bottom and a backache. She was thoroughly upset that she'd not been able to find a horse that was somewhat accessible. Not that she could do much about it now. So, she continued to tug on the lead as she trudged forward on a terrain that allowed little in the way of traction. Finally, Chanda was tired.
"That's it." the camel only blinked as she tossed the lead rope across it's back, "No more of this. You can wander back to your master now. Go on." And on that note, Chanda trudged off into the desert, already gaining significantly more ground. She was glad to be rid of the stubborn creature, and still angry that she faced the rest of the journey on foot. The heat she could handle, but the shifting sand was exhausting. So it was that, half an hour later, she was angrily tackling a steep sand dune. With every sliding step she grew angrier and angrier. She was climbing on all fours, digging her feet into the sand and clawing desperately to gain a foot only to slide back six inches. She could feel the grains of sand, hot and irritating, filling her shoes. Finally, she made a futile punch at the sand and turned around to sit down and rest. She was breathing heavily, but more from frustration than anything. It wasn't an impossible feat, just deeply irritating. Her head was hanging low, her arms resting on her knees. Then, as she brought her head up, she saw something wholly unexpected.
"What are you doing here?" she asked as the large doe eyes of the camel she thought she'd left behind stared back at her. The animal stepped closer and made to nudge her. She pushed its face back, "Ugh! Go away. Leave me alone." Still, the animal persisted, and Chanda finally stood up shakily on the steep embankment. "What? What do you want?" In response, the camel bent its long legs and curled them under its body, allowing her aboard. Back in Thebes she'd had to climb onto the old man's fence to get atop the beast. Chanda stared a moment and the quadruped pushed it's head forward on its long neck and nudged at her ankles. "Alright, alright." she sighed, walking over and seating herself in the saddle she'd luckily been able to figure out in the dead of night. The animal rose swiftly on its legs and Chanda held her breath. But, instead of the hurried bouncing trot she'd experienced earlier, the camel slowly began walking up the dune, unperturbed by the shifting sand.
As noon brought the sun to its zenith, Chanda began to feel the heat beat persistently down upon them. Things had been much easier before the sun had risen, and she knew the cold of night would be far more intolerable to her than the heat of the day. She decided it was time to camp and sleep. It was not unheard of for travelers to die of cold on long desert nights, and she knew that she, being from a warm climate, was particularly susceptible to this. So, Chanda pulled on the camel's reins and began trying to figure out how to dismount from such height. Much to her surprise, as she began to rise out of the saddle and tried to bring her foot over the camel's back, it lowered itself down once more. However, the jarring motion as the animal's knees unbuckled sent Chanda sprawling down onto the sand long before the camel lowered itself completely. Chanda lay there for a moment, struggling for every breath. Finally she rolled over onto her stomach and lifted herself onto shaking arms and legs.
"You do that again," she said breathlessly, "And I'll make a tent out of you." Finally she rose to her feet and looked around at the spot she'd picked. They were in the cradle of a crescent shaped dune. They were on the eastern side of the dune, so as the sun set, the shade would grow. Already, just an hour or so past noon, there was enough to cover them both if they hugged the very base of the dune. The camel now had all four legs tucked under its expansive body and was clearly beginning to nod off. Chanda found a nice space not far away. She dug into the side of the dune. In India, if you dug far enough, you could reach that cool, moist sand that was so nourishing for the local farms, but she wondered if such soil could be found in such a harsh landscape. Finally, she found some sand that was slightly cooler and she tucked herself into the den she'd created in the side of the dune. Before long, her eyes closed and her exhausted body was still.
Dakarai and his men had crested a far dune and spotted the woman atop the camel. As his men made to charge, Dakarai held up a hand to stop them. Just past noon the desert was sweltering, and he knew she would stop soon to sleep. No sooner had he explained this to his men then the woman stopped her camel. Dakarai watched she clumsily made to dismount and fell off when the animal obliged her by bowing on its front legs. It was honestly all he could do not to laugh, but he maintained the stern visage his fellow soldiers were accustomed to. So they waited and watched as Chanda dug herself a bed. Finally, a few minutes later it seemed she might be asleep. Cautiously the men moved forward, dipping into a valley and losing sight of her. It was then that Dakarai ordered the chariots to stay put. He took the horsemen and crested the next hill. As they came to the top, they could see her below, sleeping in the crescent of a neighboring dune. Dakarai signaled the men to move quietly, and slowly they rode down the dune, their horses half walking, half sliding down. Neither the woman nor the animal stirred as they approached. Dakarai motioned his men to circle them, and Dakarai dismounted. Slowly, he moved forward, keeping an eye on the camel.
Just as Dakarai approached the sleeping form wrapped in heavy tan linen robes, the sleeping camel awoke with a startled grunt. The woman shot upright and turned to face him. The camel was pulling itself to its feet while trying to wheel around and run, and Dakarai's eyes met those of the dancing girl close up. He could see panic and fear shining back at him and he regretted what he knew he had to do. For a moment she was still, arms poised out slightly from her body. In a flash she spun around, the long thick braid whapping Dakarai in the face. She made for the side of the dune, trying to make her way up. Of course she made it no more than a foot or two up when strong arms wrapped around her torso and plucked her off the sandy slope as though she weighed no more than an insect. This didn't keep Chanda from wriggling and kicking and waving for all she was worth. Dakarai was immensely grateful he couldn't understand a thing she was screaming out. He was a palace guard, not some thug enforcer. He could fight a man honorably and without hesitation, but chasing down and arresting some woman who's only crime was trying to avoid a life of veritable servitude didn't sit well with him. Orders were orders, though, and the woman calmed down slightly as he half carried, half dragged her to his horse.
Chanda was understandably surprised and upset. She thought she'd had a chance, that Indrani would be able to fool the pharaoh, but they had obviously underestimated him. As the soldier carried her toward his horse, she soon realized her struggling was futile. Although he wasn't hurting her, he held her as though her fighting was barely perceptible. Not surprising, for as fit as she may have been, she was not particularly strong or fast. She was sneaky, and her many near escapes were a result of her skill as a picklock and her ability to move with unprecedented stealth, not any kind of brute force. So, as the Egyptian swung her up into the saddle and settled in behind her, she said not a word. Instead she stewed inside, angry with Bhagra and angry with herself. When they crested a dune and came down into a valley, three chariots awaited them. It seemed overkill to her, for a king to send three chariots and eleven riders after one lone woman. Then again, Seti could no doubt afford such auspicious transport. It was here that she was lowered from the horse and another soldier approached her grabbing her roughly by the arm and dragging her toward one of the chariots.
"Abasi!" shouted the man who had captured her, and she and the soldier both turned around, "You will loosen your grip. She belongs to the pharaoh and I will not be held responsible for any harm that comes to her on your account." Chanda did not understand what he said, but the sound of his voice mesmerized her. Finally she recognized him. He was the soldier from the banquet, one of many who had not been able to take their eyes away. But his looks had been different, and even know as he upbraided that soldier who'd been so rough with her his eyes were warm and almost sad as they caught hers. The guard, Abasi she assumed, huffed and turned away, now leading her off with a little more care. Chanda followed but kept her head turned, staring at the man on the horse who'd been sent to seal her fate.
A/N: sorry this took so long. Nakhti, LOVE the comment, that cracked me up. "Those pesky Medjai." That sounds like a great title for a story, too, you should think about that. Because of course I expect you to continue writing when and if "Harem Nights" ends. And if you need help, I'd be more than happy to brain storm with ya. Also, many thanks to BrokenAngel1753, Alex413, and hikaru motosuwa. Much love ya'll. Please R&R, it makes me oh so happy.