Sorry for all the jumping around, but there is a lot to cover! (The curse of having such a large cast). Once everything is covered, we'll move quicker ;)
Chapter 7 –The Exchange: Part I
Black Sea: Border of Byzantium and Pannonia
Apprehensively, Navaz agreed to accompany Csaba and Farah's eldest son to the borders. Taking care of a young prince was too much work for someone as old as he was. Edemen, however, proved to be quite self-sufficient as the months progressed. When it came to military matters, Navaz hardly needed to coax him into action or step in when things went awry. Because of his affection for Csaba, he initially agreed to undertake this mission. As Csaba matured from a young man into the confident king he is today, Navaz was there to witness it all. He was undoubtedly hasty in his assessment of Edemen.
He observed Edemen and concluded that he was an excellent soldier, respectful young man, and courteous son. However, there was one small issue. Edemen had a soft spot for ladies. To follow the Byzantine army, Edemen's army moved from base to base, and he found plenty of opportunities to pick up women along the way. The other soldiers quickly picked up on this and began muttering about Edemen's flirtatious behavior, which Navaz found highly distracting.
They recently relocated to the Black Sea region to better monitor the territory. Even though Byzantine troops weren't supposed to venture this far north, Navaz proposed stationing some of the army there. They were on their way to the sea when they came across a camp. The camp was owned by Justinian's nephew, and it housed slaves. The camp was full of women, children, and the elderly, and it was surrounded by Byzantine soldiers.
Navaz had a particular aversion to working with impulsive people, and Prince Edemen exemplified that trait. The sight of so many slaves in one place was too much for Edemen to bear. He led an assault on the camp, killing every Byzantine soldier inside.
Now they had dozens of slaves from different countries and not nearly enough food to go around. For a moment, Navaz considered retracting the flattery he'd shown Edemen over the previous few months. Edemen fell in love with a young woman, barely a woman, named Öza. After three months of constant companionship, they were practically inseparable.
Navaz sat by the fire, staring at Edemen and Öza as he scored an apple with a knife. They held his attention so completely that he couldn't look away. While he recognized that Edemen was not his biological grandson, he still felt obligated to look out for him. After all, the young man in question was his wife's grandson and the nephew of his own daughter.
To divert his attention away from the slave girl and prince, a soldier approached the campfire.
"Your Highness, a letter from the Khatun."
Navaz, apple in mouth, raised his head. "Hmm?"
The soldier said, "Your wife, sir," while waving the parchment around.
With a grin, he thanked the aggravated soldier and took the letter. Anastasia's last letter to him was all complaints about Nousha. That was not shocking in the least. Worrying, however, was this letter. The news of the Gokturk invasion of Kazakhstan devastated him. Although he was relieved to hear that Cera's tribe, including his son, was unharmed, he worried that another attack was imminent.
Edemen shared his plate of grain and goat with Öza, sitting in front of a campfire. He kept peeking over at her as she ate quietly. Öza caught him staring, sipped some warm wine, and smiled. He kept ripping up pieces of the meat, nibbling at it. He was too distracted by every move she made to finish his meal.
He couldn't compare Öza to any other woman he knew or had met. Except for Öza, all the women in his tribe were well-educated and literate because of Arielle's insistence that everyone should be able to read and write. Throughout her entire life, she had been a slave. She was originally from a small village in the Pontic Steppes and was taken prisoner by the Byzantines long ago. Her time with Edemen and the Hun army was the first time she had experienced true freedom.
The thought crossed his mind that offering to take her back to Pannonia might frighten her away. Also, he didn't want to make it seem like he owned her. She was wary of strangers and even feared the soldiers who marched past the camp at night.
After chewing for several minutes, he finally swallowed the piece of meat and asked, "So, have you thought of where you want to go...you know, with your freedom?"
Öza frowned thoughtfully. "Honestly, I haven't even thought about it."
As he nodded, he wiped his hands on his pants. "There's a good chance you'll enjoy my motherland," he hesitantly told her.
She gave a wry grin and went on eating in silence.
"If you can't decide where to go, you'll always be welcome in Pannonia," he quickly said.
Öza shook her head and drank the rest of the wine while laughing at his compliments. She threw back her long hair and finished her meal while doing so. She looked over and caught Edemen staring at her once more. Even though she offered him the leftovers, he politely declined.
Navaz, standing back, tapped the rolled-up letter from Anastasia against his knee repeatedly as he watched. Then, without warning, he jumped off the grass and strode over to the prince's campfire. He took a position in front of the fire pit, and both Edemen and Öza turned their gazes to the menacing monarch. The flames that framed his features flickered menacingly but did little to soften his appearance.
"Edemen, might I have a word with you?"
Edemen, smiling, excused himself and followed Navaz to a darkened corner of the campsite. He kept staring over at Öza until he turned around and flinched at Navaz's harsh glare.
Clearing his throat, he asked, "what did you need to talk to me about?"
"We don't have any food and supplies to keep housing these people. I'm going to assign a squad to take them to Pannonia, and your father can figure out what to do with them."
Edemen nodded, rubbing his chin. "Can I lead the squad?"
Navaz grumbled and looked back at the slave girl. "Your station is here with the army, guarding the border." He could tell the prince was disappointed. "Edemen, she is distracting you. If something happens, like if we get ambushed, how can I count on you to defend the army if you're busy worrying about Öza?"
"You can count on me."
"She can't stay here."
If Edemen had tried to argue, he would have been told that Navaz was the leader. He respected his parents and would do anything they asked, especially because of Navaz. Looking longingly at Öza, he considered how he wanted to keep her for himself. There's no way he could forgive himself if an attack occurred and he lost her and everyone here.
Sighing, he relented. "When are you organizing this squad?"
"Tomorrow morning. I've already chosen the soldiers who will accompany the people."
Edemen wrinkled his eyebrows, realizing that Navaz had orchestrated this a while ago and deliberately kept it from him.
"Can I tell the soldiers to take Öza to my parents' Adame? I think she would feel comfortable around my mother."
Navaz raised his eyebrow. "Do whatever you wish. I'm not in a position to tell you otherwise. But I wouldn't bet that she'd feel comfortable around your mother after I send a message asking for more supplies and money," he said, grinning.
Edemen was well aware of his mother's tight financial grip on the empire. It was clear he had no envy for Navaz. He left the area and went back to rejoin Öza. She had already cleaned up the leftovers and washed the wooden serving bowls. Every day for the past three months he had spent with her, and he didn't want it to end, but Navaz was right; this place wasn't good for Öza and the others. Edemen cared about her well-being but was hesitant to let her out of his sight.
Over the past few years, he had been with a number of different women, all of whom, in his opinion, he had treated fairly well. Since the voices of his parents were always lingering in the back of his mind, he made sure to treat the women he was with, with respect at all times. But Öza was a whole other ballgame. She wasn't a member of a royal family, and she didn't have a home country to return to. For her entire life, she toiled as a slave to her enemy. And now he would have to break the news to her that she was moving to yet another strange place.
"Öza, I need to tell you something," he said and sat down on the grass.
She smiled and dried the bowls before returning to the campfire.
"Um, it looks like you will be getting a taste of my homeland sooner rather than later," he said.
"Meaning?"
"Meaning that a squad of soldiers will be accompanying you and the others to Pannonia tomorrow morning. I'm sorry to put this on you suddenly. I just found out."
Öza's gaze drifted to her lap and twiddled her thumbs. Edemen waited patiently for her response, but her silence was enough to tell him she wasn't ready for the abrupt move.
"I—I will ask the soldiers to escort you to my parents' home. They'd be more than happy to have you," he suggested.
"I would be happy to work for your family."
"Work for—oh, no," he muttered, almost in disgust. "Öza, I would never ask you to do that. You'll be a guest in my home. You're not a slave anymore. Not with me."
He had often wondered if Öza had ever considered that she was essentially exchanging one form of slavery for another by choosing to be with him. He was no different with her than with any of the other women he had been with. He gave her everything he had, including his food, his tent, and his clothes, all of which were too big for her. It was at that moment that he realized he had fallen short as a host when she mentioned doing work for his family.
"Ah." he took Öza's hand. "You don't have to go if you don't want to. You could travel somewhere else if you want."
She interrupted, "and where would I go?"
Persia
They chose to camp for the evening because they were only a few days away from their destination. This summer's rain was relentless, putting a damper on their journey back from Balaam. The two princes were perplexed as to why they were accompanied by a group of Persian female soldiers and two members of their extended family.
Tespar, however, was the more distressed of the two. For seven years, Balaam was the only place he knew as home, and he couldn't fathom why he was leaving. A bit older than his brother, Muqan was more excited to see his mother. Although he had a clear recollection of his mother, Tespar was too young to have any memories of his own parents.
They were forced to share a tent with Xena and Gabrielle because they required constant supervision. While the boys were playing marbles, Gabrielle and her wife relaxed in a tent corner. She anticipated that the boys would become restless during the trip, so she loaded up their suitcases with games from Abbaseh and Boran's toy collection. Given that Tespar cried himself to sleep for five nights in a row, this was a welcome relief. As prisoners of war, it was unusual to have to lug around two young children. In fact, it was riskier than stockpiling full-grown human beings.
Gabrielle looked up from the report she was writing to smile at the two brothers who were happily engaged in some quiet play. She turned to her left and saw Xena mending Tespar's torn pants. Knowing that Xena was having trouble seeing in the dark tent, she nudged the lamp over with her boot.
Xena, suddenly able to see, looked over at the lamp. "Thanks."
"Do you think we should tell Oran about this? They are his sons too," she whispered.
"Let's just wait and see how it goes with Yeter."
Similarly to Gabrielle, she was nervous about discussing such a sensitive topic. Oran and Yeter's marriage was still valid, but they hadn't seen each other or their boys in years. Ursula desperately attempted to keep Muqan and Tespar away from Issik, but this only resulted in threats being made against her. Since Oran didn't want to put his mother and two sons in danger, he followed Issik's orders. Xena questioned whether or not Yeter was as cold-hearted as rumor had it. Issik was more unstable than Yeter ever was.
She finished hemming the pants and laid them out to check her work. "This isn't great, but it'll have to do," she grumbled. "Tespar, come here."
The little prince, clad in his long tunic and stockings, stood up ungainly and padded over. As the pants were held up to his waist, he stood before Xena. In order to try them on, he slipped the pants over his stockings and tucked the tunic into the pants. Xena grinned as she yanked on the tunic and laced up the front of the pants to test their comfort.
"Good as new." She gently swatted the boy's thigh. "Try not to get caught on any tree branches," she wagged her finger playfully, and Tespar smiled. "It's time to get ready for bed. Tell your brother."
Tespar nodded, and before he left, he asked, "will my mother be surprised to see me?"
Xena stopped for a second and cast a glance toward Gabrielle. She held tightly onto Tespar's arms and grinned. "She's...been waiting for you. When she finally sees you, she's going to be very happy."
"What's she like? Is she pretty? Is she nice?"
It was with great effort that she suppressed her true thoughts. "Why don't you ask your brother? He'll tell you all about her. Off to bed." she patted his arms and scooted him away.
It took a couple of hours, but the boys finally fell asleep after they talked to each other for two hours. Xena and Gabrielle remained awake, seated on the opposite side of the tent. They tried to keep their conversation to a whisper while the princes slept peacefully. Xena offered to put some herbs in their drinks so they'd sleep easier, considering poor Tespar had stayed awake for three days straight. However, the herbs were unnecessary after Tespar was knocked out after playing a game of marbles. It was the first night in five days that he finally slept like a rock.
Xena picked at the plate of pickled vegetables and rice that the boys left unfinished. She had been picking at the food for the last couple of hours while she read a map of Persia. They figured out that taking the princes directly into Elam was not the best idea. So, they opted to take them to a hunting lodge that Xerxes owned. There, Yeter waited for their arrival, and if the weather permitted them, they'd arrive in two to three days.
She peered at Gabrielle, who was finishing up writing the report of the trip. Her eyes drifted to the slumbering princes, with her focus on Tespar.
"It was a good call bringing those games," she mentioned before taking a large drink of the warm wine.
Gabrielle whirled around, staring at the sleeping princes. "What's going to happen if they don't want to leave Yeter after the six months is up?"
Xena sighed. "We'll cross that bridge when we get there."
"We can't do that to them," she whispered. "That'll crush them, Xena!"
"You don't know what's going to happen! I don't know what's going to happen!" she pointed her finger in Gabrielle's face. "We don't have time to predict what may or may not happen. Let's just make sure that we get them to the lodge safely."
Gabrielle averted her gaze back to the boys, who slept obliviously. "I still think we should tell Oran."
"Gods have mercy..."
"I don't know how he and Yeter will interact with each other in the same room, but Oran is fairly level-headed. Maybe we could inform Ursula and Ebnedzar too."
"Yeah, let's just have a whole damn family reunion," Xena threw the plate aside.
Gabrielle reacted with a deep frown. "What's your problem?"
"My problem is that you are getting too emotional about this. They haven't even met up with Yeter, and you're already talking about Oran and Ursula and—and Ebnedzar," she spat.
"You're treating these boys like they're pawns."
"They are!" Xena growled, and Gabrielle's eyes enlarged. "We have a mission to complete. We deliver the princes to their mother in exchange for time to plan a revolt against Issik. That's what we're here to do."
Gabrielle's mouth soured, and her face curled in disgust. "Do you even hear yourself right now?"
"Do you hear yourself?" she waved her hand around. "You're talking about incorporating more people into this. That's the last thing we need."
"You sound careless."
"And you sound too carefree."
She wished she could take back her words after realizing how harsh they came across. Children were about to see their mother for the first time in years, making this mission especially delicate for several reasons. And, of course, Issik had to be stopped for that very reason. Since he planned to continue attacking other tribes, this agreement would at least temporarily stop him. Both the Huns and the Persians would do well to adopt a strategic stance. Issik was very skilled at infiltrating tribes and taking what he wanted, despite his young age. His siblings were caught in the crossfire, unfortunately.
Xena gave in and decided to apologize. "I am worried about Tespar and Muqan reuniting with Yeter. A part of me wishes that we don't have to separate them if it comes to that. I understand what it's like to be separated from your child. I could see that in Yeter's eyes when I spoke to her. She misses her children a lot, but she's still...a prisoner. We can't ignore that or this mission." She grabbed Gabrielle's hand, squeezing it tightly.
"It's hard for you to take off your commander hat," Gabrielle remarked.
In a smart reply, Xena said, "well, I'm not wearing any hat right now." She showcased a tacky smile to which her spouse smirked. "Old habits die hard. Anyway, I want you to understand that I know where you're coming from. Just don't lose sight of the bigger picture?"
"I'm just concerned about Tespar and Muqan, that's all."
"I know you are. You're always so caring when it comes to children." She kissed Gabrielle's hand. "You have their best interests. Thank you for reminding me that we're dealing with children."
Suddenly, Gabrielle's face was awash in a healthy glow. She then leaned over to kiss her wife lightly on the lips. There was an exchange of glances before she went back to her isolated workspace to continue writing the report she knew she had to complete. She felt Xena's fingers climbing up her thigh as she flipped through her journal.
She struck Xena's hand and whispered, "I need to work."
Pannonia
To keep herself occupied, Farah graded the weekly assignments of her students. She had expected poor performance from the few students who consistently disregarded her in class. Her daughter was attempting to concentrate on her homework while she graded her students' papers. Besides math, Aracsilla was thinking about other things. Farah's daughter's groaning and moaning could be heard periodically, which she tried to ignore.
After another loud groan, Farah smiled. "Are you having trouble, tatli kiz?"
Aracsilla slumped down in the chair and grumbled. "Yeah," she pouted, folding her arms.
Farah pushed aside her students' work and patted her thighs. "Let me see if I can help you."
The unhappy little princess walked over to her mother and climbed up onto her lap. She sat down at her desk and slammed her homework down with a frown on her face.
Farah, trying to suppress a grin, examined her daughter's ink-splattered paper. Despite her best efforts, Aracsilla showed no enthusiasm for science or mathematics. Her three sons fought it at first but eventually came to enjoy it and even excel at it. She knew this was largely because of the rules she enforced and the fact that she never gave up on them. Unfortunately, she had a daughter who was nothing like her sons in this respect.
As a mother, she didn't want to show any favoritism toward her daughter over her sons. However, the harder she tried to force Aracsilla, the more pushback she got. Like her sister Rabia, she recalled that this was something their father routinely did to the two of them. It only made her defy authority and retaliate. This was something Farah hoped her daughter would not replicate.
"What seems to be troubling you the most?" she asked.
The princess muttered, "all of it."
Farah put down the parchment and repositioned her child on her lap. Her husband constantly drilled into her head that everything had its time and place. When it came to math, she was known to be very strict with her sons, but she realized that approach wouldn't work with Aracsilla.
"Tell me, what do you hope to accomplish by the time you're my age?"
Aracsilla grinned. "I want to make weapons. Swords and things."
"Ah, well, why didn't you say so? That requires math!" she pinched her daughter's ribs.
The girl giggled. "No, it doesn't!"
"Oh, yes, it does. I designed this Adame, you know. Actually, I designed all of the homes here. Making weapons requires some math."
"Hmm. Really?"
"Have I ever lied to you?"
Csaba strolled in, a journal in his hand. When he saw his two favorite people, he smiled at them both in delight. Little Aracsilla leaped from her mother's lap and ran to greet him. He took her into his arms and kissed her on the cheek. He never wanted a daughter for various reasons, and he made that clear throughout his fatherhood. Two things scared him about having a daughter: one, she might look just like Farah, and he'd have to ward off potential suitors, and two, daughters were a lot of work. His two younger sisters taught him this lesson. The birth of his daughter, however, made him even more guarded than he had been with his sons.
He waved around the leather-bound journal. "I have something from Persia for you," he told Farah. "Gabrielle sent it over."
Farah organized the disarray of paperwork on the desk. "Oh? What is it?"
"I don't know. Why don't you read it and find out?" Csaba said with a guileful smirk.
His wife mocked him with a supercilious smile and snatched the leather journal from his hand. He looked over at Aracsilla, who was picking at the buttons on his shirt. Raising an eyebrow, he pinched his daughter's nose, to which she whined.
"You're in a grumpy mood," he observed.
With a firm, "No, I'm not..." the princess rested her head on her father's shoulder.
The tone of her voice indicated otherwise. While pacing, Csaba ran his fingers through his daughter's dark auburn hair. He kept turning his head to check on Farah, who was flipping through the journal with a frown on her face. It's safe to assume that whatever was written in that journal was of the utmost significance. Csaba almost didn't want to give his wife the letter from Navaz that he'd been carrying around in his vest pocket.
Farah pulled out a massive abacus and started doing some quick math, and Csaba knew he had to hand the letter to her. Forget about trying to interrupt Farah while she was deep in number crunching. He leaned close to Aracsilla and whispered in her ear, "I need to talk to your mother." His daughter was annoyed when he finally got her to agree. To get closer to his wife's workstation, he put Aracsilla down on the floor and waited for her to leave.
"Farah," he announced.
She kept pushing the beads on the abacus and scribbling down in her notebook, ignoring him.
"Farah, I need you to stop and look at me for a second," he said. Still, he was ignored.
In order to get her attention, Csaba had to do what he had to do: he grabbed the abacus. Farah slammed her hand down on the desk and glared at him. He beamed, reaching into his vest for Navaz's letter, and slid it across the desk.
After she read the letter, which didn't take long, all he had to do was wait for a response. Farah furrowed her brow, her eyes blazing with rage. Csaba hadn't heard her native language in a long time, but now she was so angry she was cursing in it. He waited for her to finish and settle down a bit before delivering some more unfortunate news.
"Before you get riled up again, there's something else you should know about the slaves that were brought here," he said.
Farah stared her husband in the eyes as she furiously tapped the pen on the desk. She was first asked, per Navaz's letter, to send more resources and funds. What's more, she was responsible for providing for the basic needs of all these extra people, including their nourishment, clothing, and shelter. Of course, there was more to come. What else could there be?
Aladar rushed into his mother's office with a giddy grin. "Did you see the woman downstairs?" he announced loudly.
Farah put down the pen and cocked her head to the side. She shot a glare at her son before returning it to her husband. "What woman?"
"Not now, Aladar," Csaba growled.
"But the troops said Edemen sent her to live with us! I've heard that she's a slave." Aladar laughed at how far his older brother had fallen.
Farah tossed the pen aside and walked purposefully across the room. She pushed her son out of the way in the doorway as she tore her headdress from a wooden mannequin's head. Aladar slammed into the door, sighed, and rubbed his shoulder as he pondered his mother's sudden departure. Turning around, he saw his father's looming figure and threatening glare.
"Aladar, what were you thinking?"
"I..."
"Your mother was already angry over something else! I was going to break the news to her gently."
The teenager huffed. "What's the big deal? She was going to find out anyway, and mother always overreacts."
With a sigh, Csaba pushed his son out of the room by grabbing him by the shoulder. "Go to your room and don't come out."
"Wha—how long am I supposed to stay in there?"
"Until I say."
The landscape of Pannonia was very reminiscent of the Pontic Steppe, where Öza grew up. She didn't retain a lot of specifics about her childhood home, but what she did recall was enchanting. She felt at home among these people, though she quickly realized that her own tribe was much smaller and more concentrated than this one. Before she stepped into the Adame, she was feeling relaxed until she found out something she wished she knew prior to arriving in Pannonia. She found out Edemen was a prince only after overhearing one of the soldiers, who escorted her inside, discussing him with a maid. Edemen should have told her that he was more than just a soldier, but the fact was that he didn't.
Öza, as anxious as ever, looked around the foyer at the passing maids. In the eyes of some, she was strange; to others, she didn't even exist. She stood in silence, her tiny frame swallowed by the clothes she had borrowed from Edemen. Her hands were filthy, her hair fell to her hips, and it was all in a tangled mess. Öza examined the grime under her fingernails.
She broke her fixation on her hands and gazed up the stairs before her. Farah, a frown on her lips, stood at the top of the grand staircase. Öza continued to stare incredulously at Farah, her filthy hands hidden behind her back. She paid no attention to the prostrating onlookers around her.
The soldier next to her whispered to her to keep her gaze down. Fast as lightning, Öza lowered her gaze to the floor. At the sound of approaching heeled feet, her heart rate accelerated. As soon as she caught sight of the black pointed boots, her heart started hammering in her ears.
"Who is this?" asked Farah.
"One of the slaves from the group picked up by the Black Sea border, Your Highness," the soldier said.
Öza sensed the scrutiny as the eyes seemed to bore into her.
"And what is she doing here?"
"The prince requested her to be brought here to be cared for."
"I see. And where is my son?"
"Still guarding the borders, Your Highness."
Son. Öza already assumed this woman was Edemen's mother due to their striking resemblance. As she stood there in silence, butterflies began to fill her stomach. Suddenly, a hand reached out, and she froze, her expression blending with the background. As she came face to face with Farah, her chin lifted, and her eyes widened. She obviously recoiled when a second hand approached her face.
Farah furrowed her brow and jerked her hand away due to Öza's reaction. She thanked the soldier for bringing the unexpected visitor and nodded for him to leave. Now that she and the timid slave were alone, she could examine the latter with greater scrutiny than ever before.
As far as Farah could tell, the young woman was quite attractive despite the filth she was covered in. Her square face was framed beautifully by thick eyebrows that complemented her dark hazel eyes with golden flecks. Her features were evenly balanced without being overly hard or soft. Farah suspected that the bony prominences of her cheeks were the result of malnutrition.
"What is your name?"
"Öza..."
"Öza," she repeated. "I will have my maids take you to the baths and give you fresh clothes." She looked down at Öza's clothes, which looked vaguely familiar.
Even though Csaba had arrived too late to help, he observed the entire exchange from the stairwell. He cautiously approached Farah after Öza was shown out by two chambermaids. He anticipated her distress but was nonetheless impressed by her composure.
With his hand on her shoulder, she turned to face him. Her expression told him he was wrong to assume her temper had subsided: she was still fuming.
She growled, "I need Edemen brought back here immediately." The two of them collided as she brushed past him. She picked up her dress and stomped noisily up the stairs.
Csaba sighed and went back the way he came. "He is currently on a mission, Farah. No way can he just up and leave."
A shrill "I don't care!" echoed from her lips.
He ran up the stairs and shouted after her as she trudged down the hall. He yelled, "Farah!" and then he heard the door slam upstairs.
He started back down the stairs but stopped halfway. Multiple housekeepers looked up at him, perplexed by the conversation. Csaba smiled uneasily, trying to mask the embarrassment he felt at other people hearing the fight he had with his wife.
Kerman, Persia
Yeter was taken to one of the many Sassanian hunting lodges against her will. Xerxes owned this particular hunting lodge. Space wasn't an issue at all. Indeed, it could accommodate a whole family, or even two if they didn't mind sharing a couple of rooms. In contrast, Yeter was confined to the second-floor suite. Sometime in the wee hours of the morning, she was brought here, blindfolded. In her mind, she gathered she wasn't supposed to know where she was. The lodge was smack dab in the middle of a forest, so she had no chance of figuring out where she was.
She stayed in the suite for three days, worrying about what was going to happen. Food, water, and anything else she might need were brought in by a large number of visitors. She had been a prisoner for a long time, but at the lodge, she was treated much better than she had been at the Elamite palace.
She took up embroidery as a form of distraction and had been busying herself with an emery board for the better part of a few days. As she sat by the pane of glass, she witnessed a horse appearing from the bushes below. She leaned heavily on the couch cushions, frowning, and stared out the window. On the dusty road, a small group of Persian soldiers trotted by. Not even noticing, Yeter gave it a scowl of disapproval. The temptation to turn away was strong, but she stayed and watched anyway.
At that moment, Xena and Gabrielle rode slowly up, each with a child perched on the front of the saddle. Suddenly, Yeter's brows furrowed, and she knelt with her hand on the glass. Xena stepped down from her horse, reached upward, and hoisted the child off the saddle. Yeter cracked a genuine grin for the first time in years. Her youngest child, Tespar, whom she hadn't seen since he was a toddler, was with Xena, and she immediately recognized him. Muqan then dismounted from Gabrielle's horse. Yeter jumped off the couch and ran to the other side of the room to follow her sons as they walked down the dirt path.
Yeter prepared herself for this moment for nearly a month. She was surprised to find that Xena actually kept her promise. She did her best to make herself look presentable, found the best black gown to wear, and donned a black headdress to match. Waiting in anticipation for the door to open, her heart sank to her stomach.
She held her breath as the key turned in the lock. Xena and Gabrielle entered through the opened door. With a frantic expression on her face, Yeter cast a desperate glance behind them, looking for her children.
She started to feel panicked at that point. She asked in an almost desperate tone, "My sons, where are they? I saw them with you two outside. Where are they?"
Xena frowned and walked in. Gabrielle then entered and promptly locked the door behind her. Yeter was breathing heavily, staring fixedly at the entrance, and eventually, tears began to well up in her eyes.
"You promised I would get to see them, Xena," she said, her voice nearly breaking.
Gabrielle and Xena had never seen the normally emotionless Gokturk Queen show such a wide range of feelings before. Rarely in all their years of knowing her did they witness her displaying such extreme emotion.
Xena set a hand on Yeter's shoulder. "You will get to see them soon. But you did make a deal with us, remember? You promised to tell us everything you know about Issik's connections. I need to know that you will fulfill your end of the deal."
Yeter nodded, tears falling down her cheeks.
"If you lie to us, you will be sent back to Anosbord. Do you understand?"
"Y—es."
Xena regarded her suspiciously for a few more seconds as she squinted her eyes. After giving Gabrielle a quick nod, she turned and left the room. Every step she took was watched by Yeter, and now the door has once again been shut behind them.
Gabrielle smiled, approaching the exiled queen. "You and your sons will remain here for the next six months. It's safer for you to be here instead of in Elam. You aren't allowed outside this room unless you have an escort. If you want to go outside, you'll get those privileges in a month, but only if you fulfill your end of the deal."
While wiping her tears away, Yeter nodded in assent to the terms. She may not have felt this liberated in years. She had more pressing concerns than being confined indoors for the next month.
Xena came back, unlocked the door, and walked inside while leading the boys by the hands. After being separated from his mother for five years, Muqan beamed at the sight of her. He dropped Xena's hand and ran headfirst into his mother. At the same time, Tespar continued to cling to Xena's hand, seemingly at a loss. She prodded him forward gently, but he only tightened his hold on her hand.
Weeping again, Yeter bent over to look at how much Muqan had grown. Enchanted by the experience, she couldn't keep the grin off her face. As her attention shifted to Tespar, she noticed that he was hesitant and wary around her. To show her affection, she went over to him, got down on her knees, and gave his hand a gentle kiss.
After two days, Yeter was completely smitten by the return of her sons after such a long absence. Tespar was initially nervous, but after witnessing his brother's joy, he relaxed and began to enjoy himself. Even though they were free to explore the lodge without consequence, the three of them remained in their room.
Gabrielle and Xena spent the week separated from everyone else in the lodge. Xena needed to question Yeter soon because their stay was short. She was initially very eager to question her, but after witnessing Yeter's distress over her sons, she almost couldn't bring herself to separate them for even a short period of time.
Xena peered in on the Gokturk family as they played a game on the floor. She had been waiting outside the door for two hours, trying to decide if now was a good time to go in. While the soldiers had already changed shifts, Xena remained stationary.
Gabrielle, notepad in hand, made her way down the hall, where she caught a glimpse of her wife, who was still standing in the same place. Everything said about Xena remaining focused on the task at hand was irrelevant here. Gabrielle climbed to the top of the window and peered inside to see a mother and her happy sons.
"You're going to have to go in there eventually."
Xena sighed. "I know."
"Do you want me to go in first?"
Xena looked over at her, pleading. "Would you?"
To her credit, Gabrielle was gracious and let herself into the bedroom. Immediately, she addressed the boys and instructed them to leave. The situation was quickly resolved by two maids who snatched the boys' hands and escorted them from the room. There being no one else around, Gabrielle motioned for Xena to walk through the door.
When Yeter got up off the ground, she completely forgot about their deal. Her initial agreement didn't sink in until now because she was too busy spending as much time as possible with her sons. In any case, she was prepared to answer questions. Xena settled into a seat on the couch, and Gabrielle took a seat across from her, notepad in hand. Slowly, Yeter accepted their invitation to join them and took a seat in the middle.
"How is it seeing your boys after so long?" asked Xena, only to break the tension.
Yeter warmly grinned in response. "I missed them a lot. Thank you for bringing them—thank you both."
Gabrielle nodded, occasionally glancing at Xena, waiting for the questioning to begin. When she realized Xena wasn't ready to begin, she jumpstarted the conversation. "We don't want to keep you from them for too long. We just have a few questions for you, and then we'll leave. Xena?" she prompted, opening her notepad to jot down notes.
Xena pursed her mouth. "Right." She rested her elbows on her knees, staring at Yeter. "Let's start off small. Do you know if Issik is sending spies into Persia?"
"Not that I know of."
"Yet he sent soldiers to attack Anosbord where you were imprisoned. That's Persian territory."
Gabrielle noticed Yeter's pronounced frown and incorporated it into her narrative.
"Was he passing messages into the prison to communicate with you?"
Once again, Xena was met with more silence.
"Yeter," she sighed, "your sons are nearby. I don't want to use force to get you to answer my questions, but I will. Remember our deal; if you don't comply, your boys will be taken away from you."
Yeter chalked her knuckles by crumpling her gown between her fingers. Her response was quick and blunt. "I had two soldiers in the prison who helped me communicate with Issik."
"Could you give us the names?"
She watched Gabrielle scribbling in her notepad. "Payam and Yar."
Xena's brows furrowed. "Those are Persian names."
Gabrielle paused in her writing. "Are these men Persian or Gokturk?" she asked. "Yeter?"
"They are Persian," she answered, as her fingers became interwoven in her gown's fabric.
Xena scratched her chin thoughtfully; this was information she found both fascinating and useful. Immediately, she thought of Adarmahan, head of the spy division. She hated to assume anything about anyone, but she knew that her first impressions were often correct. Plus, she had no faith in Adarmahan.
"How frequent were the messages?"
Yeter counted in her head quickly. "I—I don't know. Maybe once or twice a month. Time is inconsistent when you're imprisoned," she bitterly added.
Xena leaned in close. "One last question. Were these messages written down somewhere?"
"No. Verbal messages only."
"Thank you for your cooperation," Xena said as she stood up. "I'll send the boys back in."
Gabrielle stared in awed perplexity. Since she had a long list of questions, Xena had to cut their conversation short. She hurriedly gathered her belongings and left while trying not to look confused. Even Yeter was confused; she seemed to be anticipating a thorough interrogation.
Outside in the hallway, Gabrielle grabbed Xena's arm, pulling her aside. "That's it? You're not going to ask her anything else? We had so much to uncover!"
"Gabrielle, we don't need anything else. We have everything we need."
"Elaborate because I'm not understanding," she said, slightly annoyed.
"We have some traitors among us," Xena whispered. "We need to get back to Elam and investigate. First, we'll find those guys, Payam and Yar."
Gabrielle gave an incline of her head, comprehending. "And then we interrogate them?" she asked, a bit too excited.
"No," she thwacked her wife's arm. "We follow them. Keep an eye on them."
"Ah...and we know for sure Yeter isn't lying?"
That's an interesting point to consider. While Xena was peeking around the corner, she overheard the princes and Yeter chatting on the couch. When she whistled, Yeter's head snapped up.
"Everything we talked about is true, isn't it?" Xena asked.
Yeter creased her eyebrows. "Yes..."
"Remember what I said."
Yeter held her two sons in a particularly close embrace, cradling them to her chest. Without speaking, she nodded her head, and Xena smiled and backed slowly away from the doors.
"We're good to go."
Gabrielle walked away while rolling her eyes. "Do you want me to tell Arielle?"
"Arielle? Oh, we're definitely not telling her about this."
"Xena!"
"Hey, this is our mission, not hers. Let's get all our facts straight before we freak her out," Xena advised, walking alongside her irritated spouse. "You know how she is. She explodes."
"Yes...I'm very familiar with the reaction," Gabrielle muttered.
Pannonia
Csaba found himself in a sticky situation that he wasn't prepared to deal with. His son had arranged for a young woman he had never met to live with the family. And then there was his extremely irate wife to calm down. He had no idea Farah would react the way she did, but he wished she would say something anyway. Day four and Farah refused to acknowledge Öza.
What he couldn't put his finger on was why Farah was being so stubborn. She was descended from a wealthy family, but her privileged worldview had eroded over the years. But as soon as Öza came into the picture, that privilege reared its ugly head once more. Perhaps she was indignant that her son had the bright idea of sending a slave girl to live with them. Csaba wasn't fond of her reaction to the situation regardless.
After coming in from the field, he took a long, relaxing bath and then puttered around the bedroom. He made an effort to distract himself by setting out his attire for the following day. Farah sat down on their bed and began taking notes while reading the journal Gabrielle had sent all the way from Persia. She was still sitting where he left her hours earlier.
Csaba went up to Farah and planted a kiss on her head. "Put that away," he said. "You have been at this for days."
"Mmm."
After a deep sigh, he ran a hand through her hair. "What is it that you're working on anyway?"
She wrote down some numbers and replied, "I can't tell you."
He snorted. "I'm not that bad at math. You can at least tell me the gist of it."
"No, I really can't tell you. It's Sassanian property." She lifted her eyes from the journal. "I have to keep it a secret."
Csaba put up his hands as a shield and backed away from her. To get to his side of the bed, he had to crawl across her legs. The tension between them had reached a breaking point, and he could no longer deny his feelings. He quickly grabbed the journal from her and snapped it shut. He only received a threatening look from his wife, but he was prepared to face the consequences anyway.
"We need to talk about Öza," he said.
"Give that back to me," Farah demanded, holding out her hand. "Csaba, give it to me."
He slid the journal to the foot of the bed, which only made her angrier. When Farah reached for it, Csaba threw the journal across the room in anger. Farah leaned back abruptly, eyes wide, having not anticipated such a response.
"We are talking about this."
She folded her arms defiantly. "I have nothing to say."
"Why are you acting like this?" he asked, genuinely curious. "Edemen asked us to take care of Öza. She is a guest in our home, and our custom is to treat strangers like family."
Farah turned a cold cheek, refusing to engage any in conversation whatsoever.
While he knew better than to make any assumptions about his son, he did notice that Edemen seemed to have feelings for this girl. That's the only rational explanation for why he insisted Öza sleep in this house rather than one of the many unoccupied yurts in the tribe. And he figured that was what Farah was thinking too, even though she flatly denied it.
"You know, Edemen isn't a boy anymore," he said softly. "If he...likes this girl, then he is free to do so. He isn't hiding her from us, which is better than what we did to our parents," he added with a chortle.
He hoped that would alleviate their tension, but it had the opposite effect. His frustration grew as the silence continued.
"What is it then? What has got you so upset over this?" his voice began to rise. "Is it because she's a slave?"
Farah let out a long exhale, and her gaze drew to the ceiling.
Her lack of response only served to validate his suspicions. "Unbelievable. I hate to admit how right my suspicions were. I can't believe you. In case you forgot, my grandmother was a slave."
She raised her eyebrows and returned her gaze to Csaba. "We aren't talking about your grandmother. This is about our son."
"Who happens to like to like a slave."
"And—and you're okay with this?" she waved her hands around frantically. "He goes around sleeping with every girl he lays eyes on, and then a random girl suddenly is living in our home!" she yelled.
"What does it matter?"
She scoffed. "If your sisters slept with dozens of men, I do not think you'd be so calm, Csaba."
"Well—well, this isn't about my sisters," he stammered.
She slid off the bed and grabbed her robe. "You'd beat those men to a pulp if the chance arose. It's obvious you don't hold your son to the same standards."
"That—that is not true. I don't approve of what Edemen did."
Farah slid her arms through the robe's sleeves and swept her hair behind her shoulders. "Really? You seem to be so calm about this stranger living in our home. Who knows? Maybe Edemen already has another girl he wants to bring home," she said with a cynical smile.
She went to where her husband had tossed the journal and picked it up. She re-affixed the loose pages to the leather-bound journal and walked to the doors.
Csaba sprang from the bed. "Excuse me, where the hell are you going?"
She swung open the doors and whirled around. "To my office. Where I won't be bothered."
