Reluctant Concubine (16 page)

A sprawling bed covered with pelts and satin dominated the room. I had to step over silk pillows that littered the floor and saw more piled high on the giant wooden chest at the end of the bed. Flames danced in the small fireplace. Spending the night by its warmth seemed an unimaginable luxury.

When I spotted a small alcove with a tub of steaming water, my entire body thrilled, all my worries fading momentarily. I knew I would pay for all this, pay dearly and probably with more than I was willing to give, but for a moment, a shameless joy stole into me at the sight of all that heat.

I shed the cloak that had protected me from the worst of the long journey and untied my charm belt, careful with the few bunches of herbs that hung from it—my only friends in a strange place.

The two servant girls who entered after us eyed my treasure with mistrust and even agitation, although I could not fathom why. I fear little of me met with their approval as they looked over my common clothes, soiled from many days of hard travel.

I undressed myself, to the women’s great consternation, and without assistance stepped into the tub. My eyes closed as my tired body sank into bliss.

At home, we washed ourselves in the rapid little creek that wound its way down our hill. At the House of Tahar, the maidens rubbed their bodies clean with a wet cloth, using the water left in the jars at the end of the day.

I had seen a tub before at Tahar’s house, had even assisted Keela with her bath, but never had I dreamed that one day I would be allowed such luxury.

I sank to my chin and stayed until Leena fussed about the water growing cold. Then at last, to appease her, I let the girls wash my hair, then bundle me in a supple cloth large enough for a cape. They sat me on a silk pillow in front of the fire while they dried my hair. And still they were not finished.

Soon another woman came in with a dress fit for Kumra. Red and gold glistened in the light of the fire, the High Lord’s colors.

“If you would hold up your arms, my lady.”

Leena pulled a long under-tunic of linen as soft as a dream over my head, until the hem tickled my ankles. Then the cloud of crimson satin floated over me and spilled down my body, sweeping the floor as I stepped back.

Oh, how strange that felt. Enough fabric had gone into the gown to dress ten maidens, at least. The low bodice, drawn tight by braided ribbons in the back, pushed my breasts up until I feared they would spill out of their confines at any moment.

I tried to tug up the neckline in vain. “If I might have a shawl…”

The women respectfully shook their heads.

I had to sit again; then Leena held my dress out of the way while the girls rolled upon my legs a pair of slim silk stockings that ended at mid-thigh. I had seen such things at the House of Tahar when doing the wash for the concubines, although never anything this beautiful.

I stared at my legs as if they belonged to someone else, my mind scrambling to catch up with all that was happening.

When the women finished with the stockings, Leena pulled matching satin slippers on my feet, decorated with golden beads. They sparkled like jewels and were daintier than anything I had ever seen.

“If you would step on this stool, my lady.”

I was too stunned to do anything but obey.

The seamstress checked the dress and for the last time adjusted the fit.

By the time they finished, every gaze that beheld me turned approving. And I did enjoy those few moments of splendor and attention, until I realized for what I was being readied.

My stomach clenched under the layers of luxurious fabric.

Upon his return home, Lord Tahar always called for a concubine. And as no others occupied the High Lord’s strange Pleasure Hall, I had little doubt upon whom the honor should fall tonight. The women anticipated his actions, it seemed, as they arranged my hair into elaborate coils despite my protests.

I worked myself into such a state that when Leena escorted me from my chamber, my knees nearly gave out beneath me as I walked, my legs like saplings rattled by wind. But I held my head high, determined not to show any of that fear, to bear all I had to bear with dignity.

But she led me into the palace’s Great Hall instead of the High Lord’s bedchamber, and I realized I had forgotten about the feast.

Relief flooded me so thoroughly at this reprieve, that I did not balk when she led me straight to the High Lord’s table and seated me on the bench next to him. The
only
place to sit, it seemed, as no concubine pillows covered the ground behind him.  

An equally fierce-looking warrior picked at a roasted fowl on my other side, but I had eyes only for the man on whom my fate depended.

“I hope the evening finds you well, my lady.” Batumar greeted me as one would a favored concubine.

“Fine well, my lord.” I clamped my hands together on my lap.

A low murmur spread through the crowded room, but I was barely aware of anything save the High Lord’s obsidian gaze as it traveled the length of my dress. When his gaze at last reached mine, I looked away, unable to bear the scrutiny.

I could not look up again until he turned his attention to his brother on his other side. Lord Gilrem paid me no mind, but the man behind him examined me openly.

His face was as lined as the cracked ground at the end of the summer drought. The braided beard that hung to his waist shone with oils in the light of the hundred torches that burned brightly in their sconces. His protruding eyes did not seem to be connected and moved independently of each other.

When his hand fisted on the table, my breath disappeared suddenly, as if his gnarled fingers were closing around my throat.

I tore my gaze away, and I could breathe again. After that, I kept my attention on the hall and the people who had gathered there for the feast.

Warriors sat at the tables with their concubines and ate together. Husbands and wives always sat together among my people, and their children with them, one as families. I did not realize it could be so among the Kadar.

Although Batumar paid little mind to me, I could enjoy neither the meal nor the talk at the table, my mind drowning with the anxiety of the approaching night.
Pain and blood before morning came
, I believed. I had seen Onra with Tahar. Morning would see forever erased the hope that I would one day become a healer such as my mother had been. 

To distract my anguished mind, I glanced at the man who sat on my other side, a fearsome warrior but not a Kadar, judging from the exotic lion mane of his hair—locks varying from the color of straw to a brown so dark as to be almost black—and his strange clothes that resembled battle armor.

He bowed at once and introduced himself as Karnagh, from a distant country the name of which I did not catch in the clamor of the feast.

A handsome figure he cut, all brawn and thick hair that fell in twisted locks below his waist. And friendly too, not for a moment without a smile upon his face. I tried to remember where I had heard his name before but could not recall.

An empty seat gaped on his other side, and so he had no one else to talk to but me. He sampled every tray the servants brought around, and praised the food.

“Do you mind?” He pointed to the bone of the pheasant thigh I had just finished.

He had been throwing his leavings under the table from time to time, and I assumed he had his hound at his feet. Until I felt a heavy tail fall across my slippers. The tail began to beat the floor restlessly, and I heard a low rumbling growl as Karnagh tossed the bone under the tapestry that covered the table.

And then I remembered where I had heard his name before. He was the warlord Batumar had told me about on the road to Karamur—Karnagh, whose people talked to tigers and took them to battle.
He would not…
 

I paled at the thought. And even as I tried to convince myself I could not possibly be right, something massive rubbed against my legs under the table.

“Tigran,” Karnagh murmured under his breath, and the beast moved away from me. The man gave me a conspiratorial wink and pulled the tablecloth up enough to allow a glimpse of the largest tiger that lived in all the lands.

I froze in my seat. The beast looked at me as if bored. Lord Karnagh dropped the cloth back. I understood at once why no one sat on his other side.

“Batumar said you would not mind. Everyone knows he is harmless unless he is hunting or we are in battle. I do not know why the womenfolk around these parts always squeal if he comes near. It is fair heartening to find one brave lady in the castle,” he said with a wide smile.

I steeled my spine, not wanting to tremble and disappoint the man. “He does as you bid him?”

Lord Karnagh’s smile stretched wider as he started into the story of their last fight.

He most certainly managed to distract me from my fears of the upcoming night. So preoccupied was I with the beast under the table that could at any moment decide to sample me for dessert, I did not think of Batumar until he rose to leave.

I dared not breathe or move until I was certain he had left the hall, for fear I would draw attention to myself. He did not call my name.

A short reprieve, then, I thought, and as others rose, I took my leave of Lord Karnagh to return to my chamber, wishing to be alone for as long as I could before the High Lord sent for me. I knew I had but a moment’s delay. To take my body was his right; indeed, I was his possession. And the Kadar liked to take.

I could have never found my way back, but as soon as I stood, Leena appeared by my side.

I barely recognized Pleasure Hall. Steaming water filled the great hole in the middle of the floor, heated through some magical mechanism from below. Silk pictures, finer than any at the House of Tahar, hung on the walls. I turned from the images and prayed that Batumar would never want to do any of that to my poor body.

But why else would he have ordered the pictures to be hung if not to educate me before I went to him? I wished the High Lord’s Pleasure Hall had other concubines so I might ask how such things were conducted. I seemed alone in the great space, however, save the servants. I did not take that as a good sign. 

I remembered the tales I had heard at Lord Tahar’s Maiden Hall about concubines who brought shame to their lord or displeased him. They were put to the sword, their bodies hung from the whipping post for days for all to see. I heard whispers of Lord Tahar’s father, who had one concubine sewn into a burlap sack with a selection of snakes and tossed into the harbor. Her lover had been castrated, then burned alive.

I thought of the endless row of empty chambers in the High Lord’s Pleasure Hall. It seemed impossible that this many women could have displeased Batumar.

Would
I
? 

I was too distraught to appreciate the gossamer night rail that lay upon my bed. But then I took a closer look.
Sweet spirits.
I could see the embroidered flower petals of the coverlet clearly through the thin fabric that shimmered in the light of the fire.  

Leena moved to unlace my gown, but I sent her away. I would have been too embarrassed to wear such a garment in front of her, let alone Batumar. I smoothed down the thick brocade of the gown—the more barriers between me and the High Lord, the better. I wondered whether it would have been untowardly if I put on my traveling cape.

I sank onto the padded stool to wait in front of the fire, but as time passed and my back ached, I lay upon the bed, snuggled against the small mountain of pillows.

* * *

I awoke to the morning light filtering in through the small windows high on the wall, and to noises made by a servant woman stoking the fire in the hearth. She had a bent back and hair of silver, one of her eyes milky white and almost certainly blind.

“My name is Tilia, my lady. I am at your service,” she said with a bow as soon as she saw me come awake. She brought my morning meal and apologized for the lack of fresh mosan juice.

“The mist is upon us. May the goddesses save us.” Her aged hands trembled. “It came on early before anyone could go to market. No market now and not anything else either,” she mumbled on as she served me.

“A snowstorm?” I had hoped the season of snow was behind us. Escape would be easier in fair weather.

“Nay, not snow. Not bad weather it is, but great evil, my lady.”

The honest fear in her voice sent a chill down my spine.

“It will pass by tomorrow, but the streets will be empty until then. Not a soul would walk into the mist, not one. Thick it is like goat milk and foul. Many unwary fools have disappeared into it never to be seen again. They say invisible beasts live in the mist and feast on human flesh.”

She held on to a clump of charms that hung from her belt, and I nearly missed mine. I ate the boiled eggs and cheese in silence as her words darted around in my mind like frightened mice.

She took the tray when I finished my victuals, and other servants came to attend other chores. All had charm belts around their waists now, although I had not seen that custom followed at Karamur the previous night.

By the time I washed and they combed and arranged my hair, the dressmaker stood in the door again and worked with me that entire day with but a few breaks. She did not leave until the servant women came for me in time for the evening meal. It seemed the High Lord’s household ate together every evening when the High Lord resided at Karamur, and not only on special feast days as did the House of Tahar.

“I hope the evening finds you well. Have you yet recovered from our journey?” Batumar asked, once I took my seat, careful of the tiger.

His plain white shirt stretched over wide shoulders, his dark hair spilling down his back. He wore no symbols of his station, yet he looked as regal as a king. Were he dressed as the last beggar, he would have still looked a warrior. His fearsome sword rested on the bench on his other side, ready in its scabbard.

“Yes, my lord.”

He watched me for a moment; then his gaze moved to the man on my other side. “Lord Karnagh, have you given more thought to our discussions?”