Lady Samira traveled along with the Trade caravan from Ar to Thentis. It was hot and dusty. More than ever, she wanted to shed the heavy veils that hid her face from view. But her hand stayed where it was and she sat back in the wagon, relaxing as much as a free woman could while in public.
Her mind drifted back to the event that set her on this course.
... The assassin stood over her and her dead Free Companion, staring down at her. For a moment, she thought either she was dead or would be enslaved once more. She could almost see him calculating her worth as he examined what he could see through the shear Last veil that she wore only in the privacy of her own home. The silent moment lasted forever; her kneeling by Gerard's dead body, blood seeping into her blue Veils of Concealment as the tears coursed down her face. The assassin stood there, dark and menacing with the black dagger on his forehead, the shadow of death come to life. Then, he nodded at her, turned on his heel and walked away. Leaving her sobbing over her Free Companion's death. ...
Samira shook her head to clear it from the still raw memory. Tears threatened to spill over again. Desperately, she dove into another memory.
... Uther looked down at her. She kept her eyes lowered. He forced her to stand and then he roughly removed the collar from about her neck. "You are free. No longer my slave. No longer a slave." He tossed a blue strip of cloth at her. "Veil yourself, free woman." They stood to the side of one of the streets in Ar. Several people had stopped to watch this unusual act.
"A free woman?" she asked, fingers fumbling to tie the make shift veil in place. It made her stand out even more, clashing with the red silks that she wore.
He nodded. "Yes. Free woman. Now go."
That frightened her. "But where do I go? What do I do?" She did not understand this. If he was displeased with her, why did he not just punish her? Why release her to free woman status? Questions whirled in her head, urging on the panic.
"That is none of my concern, free woman." He looked her up and down, then laughed. A couple of other men laughed, too. "Go free woman. Fend for yourself."
"Master, please!" She took a step towards him.
"I am not your master, woman. My slave, Eden, is dead." He hissed at her. Giving her one last withering look, he turned and strode away into the crowd.....
She had been panicked, afraid, unsure. She almost turned to the nearest man and submitted to him but something within stopped her. Taking a breath, she looked around at those watching. She lifted her chin like she had seen many of the regal free woman do and made herself believe that she would be alright. She had a veil. A free woman was merely nude if she had nothing on, save her veil. A free woman was truly naked if her veil was stripped away.
That was when the scribe approached her. Samira smiled more, thinking about it.
... "Come, my Lady. It is unseemly for you to be in the rags of a slave." The scribe said to her, offering a concealing cloak.
At first, she would not take it. She was from Urth, a captured slave who had spent the last three and a half years as a slave. She did not know the customs of free women very well. Then, she decided to accept it. What is the worst the scribe could do to her? Kill her? She had faced death every day as a slave. Enslave her? Part of her wished for that already. "Thank you." She told the scribe as she wrapped herself in the blue cloak. She wondered if it was his own as she covered her body and recovered her dignity.
"Allow me to introduce myself. I am Gerard, Scribe of Ar. Please, allow me the pleasure of your company for dinner." His smile did not reach his hazel eyes....
She had accepted, of course. She had no where else to go. Gerard took her back to his home, a stately manor house. He had his two slaves bath her and dress her in blue veils of concealment. She wondered where the free woman that owned these was. That night, over dinner, she had told him her tale. All of it. From her capture on earth, her slavery in the Kajira Gardens, her Tuchuk master, her assassin master, being owned by the Legion of Warriors and then by Uther.
When she was done, Gerard had named her, "Samira" meaning "Storyteller." He then asked if she could read and write. She had been taught while owned by the Legion of Warriors. He had nodded. Then he told her that he would teach her to be a proper free woman and she would be a member of his house. He explained that he would be harsh and extremely strict. She would have to be the perfect free woman: elegant, proper, beautiful and pleasing. Finally, he told her, "I do not do this for you or because I like you. I do this for me and because I hate Uther. You are a means to an end."
Samira had understood at the time. In essence, she was still a slave. One with a very different set of rules than she was used to. Within a week of Gerard's harsh instruction, Samira was ready to face Gor again as a free woman. He took her out with him and no one looked twice at her. From then on, he treated as a respected free woman and member of his house. She began to take over the duties of ensuring the house was kept up.
Still, there was the matter that she was branded with a "K," marking her kajira. If she were to be a true free woman, she could not have the brand. It took her two days to get up the courage to do what she needed to do.
... Samira sent the house slaves away. Gerard was gone on business. It was time. She gathered up the needed supplies and went to her private chambers. There, she began to heat up two copper bowls over a brazier. Then she lifted her robes until she could see the brand. She examined her almost smooth skin with the darker "K" brand. The flesh was barely raised. It would not take much to obliterate it.
Once the copper bowls were burning hot, Samira lifted the first one with tongs. She could feel the heat radiating from it. She almost lost her nerve, then she steeled herself and pressed it to brand on her thigh. She could not suppress the cry of pain and dropped the bowl. It struck her other thigh, leaving a small burn mark there. Fortunately, the bowl was not hot enough to catch the furs on fire.
Tears of pain coursed down her face as she applied the healing salve. Its cooling touch soothed the hurt immediately, giving Samira the strength to finish what she had begun. She lifted the second bowl and tapped a second mark on the same thigh as the brand had been. She winced in pain but held onto the bowl. Then she placed it to the side. Quickly, she applied the salve to that burn.
After a few moments of rest, she examined her thighs again. The brand was gone, leaving an irregular shaped mark that could be taken as a birth mark - once it fully healed. The other two, smaller burns would also be taken as birth marks. Perhaps, if she were ever enslaved again, it would lower her value to have birthmarks there, but she did not care at this point. A free woman could not have a brand and she was a free woman. She would please Gerard with this. That was her goal. ...
Samira looked up to see the cylindrical towers of Thentis in the distance and thanked the Priest Kings. It would be good to be back in a city. Then, she could get on with the business at hand: Seeking the Assassin from her past.
Continue on to: Part 2: Meeting the Assassin