Samira arrived back at the Golden Bana It was barely past mid afternoon. Her slave, Medea was ready and waiting. She had cleaned the room, hung up and folded all the clothing and was mending one of her silks. She immediately stopped, kneeling before Samira. "Mistress, may I serve you?"
"No Medea, continue with your work." She did not feel like a massage or conversation. She was feeling restless.Ê
Medea could sense her Mistress' mood and quietly slipped to other room to give Samira the privacy she seemed to want. She left the door open in case her Mistress had need of her.
Samira knelt down at the table, intending to write more on her latest creation. Gerard's family still welcomed her with them, even though their son was dead. His Mother, Serina, seemed to enjoy her tales, always good naturedly pestering her for more. 'I wonder if they are hoping I am pregnant?' She mused to herself. She was not. Samira knew this but she could not make herself bring this fact up to Gerard's family. Not yet. Gerard. How she missed him...
She slammed her writing implement down, "Medea! We are going out!" She called, almost angrily, as she stood. She would not allow herself to wallow in the misery that had been threatening to engulf her since his death.
Medea hurried to the room, nervous at the tone in her Mistress' voice. She would be extra careful this night.
"Heel!" Samira knew her voice was harsher than needed as Medea hurried to obey. It was either to be angry and snappish or sad and weepy. She would rather make a slave nervous than to break down, even in private. She headed out, almost blindly towards the market place, heedless of the glances that anyone gave her for her brusque, regal manner.
A couple of ahn later, Samira was feeling better, more in control. She had purchased a few small items, trinkets and baubles, mostly. She liked to shop, casually wandering throughout the market, occasionally listening to the white clad merchants hawk their wares. As Samira considered some fine looking fabrics she heard the most unusual voice...
"Lady... oh, Lady Scribe..." A high male voice called.
Samira turned, not sure of what to expect. She was not even sure that she was the one being addressed. Across the way was another fabric merchant. Mostly silks and fine fabrics from the looks of it. She saw a person... a man, she thought, wave to her, gesturing her closer.
"Come, come Lady. See my fine fabrics!" The voice sang out to her in an almost falsetto.
She glanced at the other fabric merchant, but he was in the middle of a heated haggling battle. He would not be offended at her leaving. So, she crossed the way. Coming closer, she saw that she was indeed being addressed by a man - only, not like any other man she had seen on Gor before. If she were still on Earth, her 'gay-radar' would be screaming at her.
"Tal Lady, I am De'Kee, merchant of the finest fabrics in all of Thentis. Nay, in all of Gor!" He smiled, looking incredibly pleased with himself. He was slender, about 5'10" with sandy blond hair and brown eyes. He seemed a bit mousy-looking to her. He was wearing the white and gold of the Merchant's guild that somehow seemed down right feminine as he fussed with a shear aqua veil, folding and refolding it.
"Tal Merchant." Was all she could manage to say. She wanted to laugh hysterically at this man. First, at his dress and second, at his name.
"Please, please. Come view these fine fabrics, Lady." He refolded the aqua veil and then showed her a beautiful blue bolt of brocade. "This would match your eyes and your caste." He giggled like he had made a joke.
She touched the fabric with a gloved hand. "How durable is it?" Samira was doing everything not to look at him. It was like he was trying to parody the swish gay male from Earth - only, he was not acting. At least, she did not think he was. She wondered why he had not been killed yet.
"Yes, yes. It's as tough and durable as Keke here." He looked around. "Keke!" He yelled in that high voice.
She was sure he was using falsetto. He had to be. Her musings were interrupted by the visual train wreck called Keke. He was obviously a silk slave, one of the few that she had ever seen. Most silk slaves belonged to free women. Keke was about 6'2" with eyes of blue and blond hair. He was a strapping muscular man, dressed in aqua and scarlet silks.Ê
"Yes Master?" The slave mumbled, keeping his eyes to the ground.
"There's my Keke! My poet slave!" De'Kee patted the slave fondly. "See, a strong, durable slave - just like my fabrics and silks. Only, he wiggles more!" He winked at her as Keke's face turned crimson with embarrassment.
Her own blush matched that of the embarrassed slave. "I see." Was all she could think of to say. She just could not believe what she was hearing and seeing.
"My, it's hot today, isn't it." He waved his hand in front of his face. "Shall I package up a bolt of the brocade and perhaps a matching silk, Lady? I can send Keke to take it home with you. And who knows.Ê You could enjoy...." He left his thought hanging in the air as he looked between his slave and her speculatively.
She stiffened, embarrassed and suddenly angry. It was not bad enough that this merchant was so outrageous, now he insulted her with his suggestion that she borrow his slave for more than carrying packages. "I do not think so, Merchant. I am not from Thentis and I find your insinuations insulting and offensive!" She turned to leave, angry at this man and the others who had begun to watch.
"Lady! I do apologize if I have offended you!" He ran out in front of her, his hands up. "Please, Lady. That was not my intention. I didn't know you were a visitor to our fair City. Please, let me make it up to you."
Thankfully, he did not touch her. Inwardly, she cringed at slipping the fact that she was not of Thentis out in the open marketplace. She would have to be very, very careful now. "No. You have done quite enough." All Samira wanted was to leave this insufferable man behind.
"I insist. Please, allow me to be your dinner companion! I know the most delightful spot." He stood in front of her. "I do insist." Looking around, she saw many of the other merchants watching her. She did not like being the center of attention like this. But, she noticed as soon as De'Kee looked around, the watching merchants found something else to occupy their view. "I insist, Lady." He repeated, his eyes staring into hers.
For that instant, he was not the foppish, fabric merchant, but something altogether different and dangerous. Even the lilt had disappeared from his voice. She finally nodded at him. "I am dining at the Lar-Torvis tavern tonight."
"Grand!" Suddenly, he was back to being himself. "I just love Lar-Torvis! They have a delicious vulo that is just to die for!" He swished around her, back to his stand. "Keke, Brawn!" He clapped his hands together. A second, equally attractive silk slave, dressed in red silks, appeared next to Keke. He looked just as miserable and embarrassed as Keke did. "Take the cart home, clean things up and then come to Lar-Torvis. Chop-chop! Make haste." He patted Brawn on the rear and then turned to her again, giving her a winning smile. "Shall we go, Lady?"
"Yes." Samira inclined her head and motioned for Medea to heel. Then they began their long winding walk back out of the market, towards the tavern where she had chosen to eat.
***
The dinner De'Kee was like a cross between watching an embarrassing show and playing in a high stakes Kaissa game. He would ramble on and on about his various shops in Thentis, purposely do things to make his slaves blush and then he would ask deceptively innocent sounding and probing questions.
"What do you write about, Samira?" He asked, munching on piece of redfruit.
She sipped her wine. "I write stories about people, write poetry and assist... assisted my Free Companion with the records keeping."
"A poet, Lady?" He clapped his hands together. "Let me hear something."
Samira thought, trying to think of a poem that would be appropriate for the setting. She could not think of any that was not personal to herself, Gerard or her family. Reciting any of those would to be to give too much of herself to this oddly dangerous man. So, she decided to quote something from one of her favorite authors, Susan Cooper, from memory.
"When the Dark comes rising, six shall turn it back;
Three from the circle, three from the track;
Wood, bronze, iron; water, fire, stone;
Five will return, and one go alone.
Iron for the birthday, bronze carried long;
Wood from the burning, stone out of song;
Fire in the candle-ring, water from the thaw;
Six Signs the circle, and the grail gone before.
Fire on the mountain shall find the harp of gold;
Played to wake the Sleeper, oldest of the old;
Power from the green witch, lost beneath the sea;
All shall find the light at last, silver on the tree."
De'Kee smiled. "That was wonderful, Lady! What is it called?"
"The Dark is Rising." She felt a touch guilty for quoting it, but she did not trust this man with anything personal.
"You are a true poet, Samira. Are you in the right Caste? I'm sure you looked lovely in aqua and scarlet." He ate another piece of the redfruit, glancing at her casually as it to gauge her reaction.
She arched a delicate eyebrow. "Looked...?" She inquired calmly. Though, suddenly, inside she was quaking with fear. She had once worn scarlet and aqua silks as a slave of Uther. He used to call her his "poet slave." Did this man know Uther? Did he know her from before. No, he could not. She would have remembered him.
"Did I say "looked"? I meant, "would look." I apologize for any offense." He smiled insincerely at her, bowing his head.
Suddenly, she was very weary. She did not want to mince words with this man any longer. He wanted something from her but she could not tell what. Her slave returned from clearing the plates away and Samira took this moment to end the dinner. She stifled a yawn. "Forgive me, De'Kee. I am very tired. I will be taking my leave of you." She rose to her feet with Medea gathering her packages.
De'Kee stood and bowed. "Of course, Lady Samira. Thank you for dining with me tonight. I look forward to the honor again, sometime soon."
She smiled behind her veil thinking that it would be a LONG time coming. "I wish you well, Merchant De'Kee."
"And you, Lady Samira." He waved to her. "Come back and look at my fabrics again. I will hold the blue brocade for you." He called after her.
She slipped out of the tavern, thankful that the Golden Bana was only a couple buildings down the street. As soon as they were in her chambers, the door locked, windows shuddered, she started to relax. Medea began to help her out of the heavy robes of concealment and her veils. "What did you learn of him, Medea?" She had discreetly sent the slave to discover what she could about her dinner companion from the other slaves.
"He is well known, Mistress, and very, very rich. He owns at least two fabric shops, a blackwine bistro and a pleasure garden called 'Talendar Petals' - though, he does not use the female slaves there. It is said that his taste is almost exclusively for silk slaves." Medea wrinkled her nose at her last statement.
"I could see that. Very rich. Does he have political ties in the City?" She allowed the slave to brush out her long redgold hair and then braid it into a single long plait.
"The other slaves think so. They say that if someone goes against Master De'Kee, they end up missing. It has happened several times amongst the fabric merchants. But nothing has ever been proven." Medea began to give her Mistress a shoulder massage. "Most of the slaves are afraid of him."
"Why?" She relaxed into the massage.
"Apparently, he is very vicious when he doesn't get his way. Slaves have died for the most minor of mistakes. He seems to delight in hurting them."
Samira shrugged. "Slaves die all the time."
"He tortures them first. And Mistress, please be careful. The slaves I talked to were surprised to see him with you."
She turned and looked at her slave. "Why is that?"
"They tell me that he hates free women and only deals with them when he is selling something." Medea looked worried.
Samira waved her off. "I have much to think about. Kennel."
"Yes Mistress." Medea turned and went to the small windowless kennel and crawled into it.
Samira closed and locked the door, then went to bed herself, wondering why a merchant who disliked free women had chosen to dine with her. Too many questions, not enough answers. And none of it was getting her any closer to discovering who hired the assassin to kill Gerard and why.
Continue on to: The Storyteller's Tale, Part 4 - Family Ties