Disclaimer: OK, so I've been a bad, bad little writer. I know, I know, it's been… forever. A whole lot of stuff has gone on in my life and, long story short, I recently ended a three-year long relationship. I was unhappy for a long time, got obsessed with reading (during which time I discovered the "Outlander" series by Diana Gabaldon, if you haven't read them DO IT. It is impossible not to adore the main male character) and kept trying to fix things that couldn't be fixed and realized I wasn't the same person, and the change wasn't for the better so the relationship finally ended. And now I'm getting back into the swing of things, writing again, but I've still got plenty going on so don't expect an update like every night or even every few nights. But I'm working on it, and my muses are slowly coming back, dancing happy little jigs in my brain, so hang in there, loves. You know the spiel. Ardeth, Evy, and Rick are not mine. I'll never pretend that they are, but I can dream. Chanda is my own creation, though, so keep your hands off.
Chanda was now alone in a room quiet as a crypt. Ten pairs of eyes were set upon her with ferocious curiosity. The woman who'd approached her at the door still stood there, looming over her like a thunder cloud. Her smug, sophisticated air was nearly unbearable. Chanda had gotten in all-out brawls with Bhagra's other dancers for lesser insults. This was not her realm, however. She'd been left entirely out of her element. She could only be thankful that they'd never be able to understand any of her snide, sarcastic remarks. That alone would avoid much of the trouble she'd gotten into during her lifetime. On the other hand, she'd give anything to understand the things they would say to, or about, her.
Amunet appraised the woman before her with a critical eye. She failed to see what had been so extraordinary as to pique Seti's interest. This Chanda girl had an impudent set to her shoulders and a prideful gleam in her golden eyes. Her hair was obscenely long and one could only guess as to her physique under all those dusty robes. Amunet mused, rather uncharitably, that she'd never be able to contain her delight should she find that the girl was a bit too full figured or perhaps covered in scars. How could the fool make such a hasty purchase without inspecting the goods? And surely he couldn't have done so with her wearing such androgynous garb.
Amunet snapped orders to Hasina and Mosi to take the woman off to the baths. The moment of tense silence broke in the room and everyone came to life. Hasina and Mosi got rapidly to their feet and hustled a reluctant Chanda into an adjoining room. The bath was a stunning structure, taking up most of the room with a glorious cobalt blue tile floor. Chanda was stripped of her robes in a daze and lead to the edge of the massive bath. Steps led down into water that came up to just under Chanda's breasts which she kept hidden behind her crossed arms. When the two women who had escorted her moved toward her in order to help her bathe, Chanda ducked and moved back. When they moved to follow her she began scolding them in a stream of sharp, incomprehensible words.
"Leave her," Amunet commanded from the entrance, "Let her bathe herself." Hasina and Mosi shrugged at one another and left the washing cloth and soap on the edge of the bath as they stepped out, entirely unconcerned with their own nakedness. Chanda was used to have much of her flesh visible when in costume, but even so she could hardly imagine herself moving with such confidence and self-possession with not a stitch on. Slowly, she moved to the rim of the pool and took up the linen and soap to commence her ablutions. While the cleansing took little time, her hair took a great deal of effort. Finally, Chanda finished and stayed in the bath, her knees bent to keep the water covering her up to her neck, looking around for something with which to cover and dry herself. The robes she had worn were dirty and sweaty, but she had no desire to wander about in the altogether.
Just as she had resigned herself to her only option, Amunet pushed the curtain aside and looked in, obviously put out that she was taking so long. Upon spotting Chanda she quickly deduced the problem, rolling her eyes and disappearing for a moment to return with a plain white linen dressing robe. Chanda hesitated only a moment before making for the stairs, wringing out her hair as she went. She took the robe and wrapped it snugly around herself, all the while aware of the consort's scrutinizing gaze. Tying off the sash, Chanda set her shoulders and raised her chin, meeting the Egyptian's eyes. The two women stared one another down for a moment before a sort of grudging acceptance appeared on Amunet's countenence.
"Well," she said, knowing full well she was talking to herself, "You're not the mutt I thought you might be, and you're a brave thing if nothing else. But we'll need to work on your temperament. Pharaoh will not tolerate any insubordinate behavior." That said, Amunet stepped to the side, motioning Chanda back into the main sitting room with the rest of the women. While the gathered consorts all seemed on the surface to be preoccupied in their own doings, it became clear that they were all awaiting Chanda when every head turned at once in her direction. Without a hitch in her step, Chanda walked into the room and sat herself on a low couch near the shallow pool in the center of the room. The last pink glow of daylight floated down through the skylight and Chanda couldn't wait to be shown to a bed. She'd escaped in the middle of the night before and had now been awake for far too long.
"Chanda," Amunet addressed as she stepped in front of the Indian woman, commanding her attention. "Chanda," she repeated, pointing at the woman in question. "Amunet" she said now pointing at herself. Chanda did not repeat her, but gave a barely perceptible nod, and so Amunet continued. "Mosi" she said pointing to one of the women who had tried to help Chanda bathe, "Hasina" pointing to the other. So it went on with the seven other girls. Bahiti, Edjo, Uadjit, Sanura, Nabirye, Nephthys, and Jendayi were introduced in turn, Chanda showed her understanding, but did not deign to reply.
"Doesn't say much, does she?" Edjo pointed out. She was an unusually tall, lithe woman with eyes tilted slightly much like a cat's.
"Can't expect her to, she just got here, and she doesn't speak Egyptian." Jendayi pointed out in her soft lilting voice form behind one of the black pillars. She was a delicate girl, the youngest in the harem, with brown, curling hair and expressive olive green eyes. Jendayi was a foreigner as well, traded from Mycenae, and was clearly sympathizing with the new consort.
"It's no matter," Amunet concluded, "We will need to get started on her early in the morning. She is to meet the Pharaoh to receive judgement for attempted escape. So, it would be best that we see to her quarters for now. Bahiti, Uadjit, go ready one of the spare chambers. Sanura, Nephthys, unpack her belongings, they're by the doors. Nabirye, grab the shears, we may as well cut her hair tonight, we'll need to have her presentable and there's no way we're fitting all that hair under a wig." The women went to their tasks without question and only hushed complaint. Amunet took Chanda by the arm to lift her to her feet and Chanda tugged her arm away. Amunet only raised a painted eyebrow before signaling the stubborn creature toward a table littered with cosmetics, combs, and bottles of scented oil. Chanda stood and made her way over to a chair placed before the table where Nabirye waited.
Bahiti and Uadjit were roused from their task suddenly by an angry shout followed by a string of angry gibberish and a sudden, frightening shriek that rang against the marble pillars. The two women glanced at one another just as the linen they'd had stretched between them settled gracefully onto the pallet. They were out the door in moments and headed for the stairs, trying at intervals to peer over the rail and between the pillars to see what was the matter. Sanura and Nephthys were so startled by the voracity and proximity of the commotion that they dropped the pair of jewelry boxes they'd been holding and the lids flew open scattering gold bangles and dancing bells and earrings across the floor. All the women converged on the epicenter of the disturbance to witness Amunet holding a screaming, thrashing, shear-weilding Chanda. Nearby they saw Nabirye grasping at her left arm, blood dripping from the tips of her fingers onto her fine white robes while she sobbed and rambled in a manner almost as incomprehensible as the foreign tongue Chanda spouted.
Edjo stepped forward quickly, taking Nabirye off toward the bathing chamber to settle her down and see to her wound. Chanda had lost interest in Nabirye and was shouting at Amunet as the two women wrestled for possession of the shears. A heartbeat later, the great double doors slammed open and Dakarai stepped in accompanied by the eunich guards who normally stood outside the chamber. Amunet and Chanda froze as they stared at the imposing countenance of the Medjai before them. Chanda, however, came to her senses before Amunet and yanked the shears away with a triumphant noise and threw them into the corner of the room.
"What goes on here?" Dakarai demanded, his deep, rough voice rolling through the room. Getting the gist of the statement regardless of her ignorance of the language, Chanda began on a tirade, pointing toward Amunet and then the bathing chamber and grabbing her own hair in display. The only bits of information anyone caught were the names "Amunet" and "Nabirye." The latter chose that moment to step into the room, a strip of linen bandaged around her upper arm. Chanda quieted for a moment and Amunet and Nabirye took the chance to air their grievances, simultaneously and at volume. Dakarai closed his eyes and held his hands up to beg silence. When that failed to work he bellowed for quiet and the chamber was still.
"Enough," Dakarai scolded, "I will bring you before the pharaoh, tonight. He won't be pleased being bothered this late, so you'd best get civil tongues in your heads. Baal, find out where they're keeping the other dancing girls who were with Chanda and see if any of them speaks Egyptian." Dakarai rested his gaze on the furious Indian woman, her chin was raised defiantly, her nostrils flaring as she breathed. He sighed inwardly. He didn't wish to contemplate what fate awaited the beautiful, spirited girl.
A/N: So, the saga continues. Hope you enjoy. Many, many, MANY thanks to Nakhti, Rachel Sparrow, daydreamer505, raerain, hikaru motosuwa, RaevenMoon, bdpotato, Larien Telrunya, Orphelia-Rose, CAPTAIN Matey Sparrow, YueMichiruNaragisawaMiko, faeriesinger, MemoryStillHauntsMe, Laureloth, soul, Cookie2004, and albinocuriosity.