Zona:

Tales of Erogenia

Episode 1: The Snow Princess

Chapter 12: Prisoner

“Fool, to bring her here like this. What was he thinking? Does he think I have the power to restore life to the dead?”

The voice seemed to come from very far away and it took awhile for it to percolate through to Zenaria’s brain. Bizarre dreams had dominated her sleep, none of them pleasant, and there was a strange buzzing sound between her ears as she forced open her eyes.

“Ah,” said the voice that had spoken before, “she awakes. I thought never to see those eyes open. She must have a constitution like a racing camel.”

Zenaria’s eyes blinked against the light. It was so bright that she could barely see, and then gradually her vision adjusted. The first thing she saw was the whitewashed ceiling above her and then her eyes focused on the man next to her. He was sitting on a stool beside the bed she was lying on and had skin darker she could ever have imagined. His eyes were dark too, with a slight yellowish tint to them. She could not determine his hair colour as he was completely bald and either clean shaven or not capable of growing a beard. He appeared of average height, which meant that he was at least six inches shorter than she was, and he was dressed in a simple white robe, belted at the waist with a golden rope. Standing beside him was a younger man, also clean shaven with dark hair and the tan complexion common to most Sandakar. He was dressed almost identically to the older man, but his robe was belted at the waist with a simple brown rope. He was holding a wet cloth in his hand and was looking at Zenaria in what appeared to be complete surprise.

Zenaria assessed herself next. She was lying nude on a low bed, her upper body raised slightly by soft pillows. The droplets of water on her skin and the flow of air over her damp body told her what the younger man had been doing with the damp cloth. However, her biggest surprise was that the chains were gone. Looking down to her injured thigh she saw that it was wrapped in a clean white bandage, and although it throbbed slightly she could hardly call it painful.

Shifting her elbows slightly she tried to sit up but the dark skinned man placed a hand on her shoulder and gently pushed her back. “Not just yet,” he said quietly. “Perhaps we will try walking later, but for now I wish to assess your condition.”

The man’s voice, although calm and quiet, had the same air of authority to it that Tren’s had, although without the hint of sarcasm that never seemed very far from Tren’s lips. Obeying, Zenaria lay back down. “Where am I and who are you?” she asked. “Where are the chains?”

“Three questions in two sentences,” the black-skinned man smiled, revealing perfect white teeth. “I will answer them, however.”

“First, you are in the palace of his Highness Ravar Kund, Lord of the Market and younger brother of the High Thuski. It was he who brought you here though his treatment nearly killed you. Second, I am Sorvat, personal physician to his high brightness. This is my assistant, Pandar. It is thanks to him that you are still alive. He has watched over you day and night. As for the chains, I had them removed within minutes of being brought to your cell with orders to heal you.”

“I’m thirsty,” Zenaria rasped. Her throat felt like sandpaper and she had almost exhausted her voice with the few questions she had asked. Pandar filled a metal bowl from a pitcher that was on a small table behind him and handed it to her. She drank. It was just water, but it soothed her throat. “I don’t understand,” she said. “Why am I in this room? I was thrown into a barren cell when I was brought here.”

“Sometimes his loftiness allows cruelty to cloud his judgement,” Sorvat answered. As he spoke he touched various parts of Zenaria’s body, lifting her arms and bending her legs. It was done in such a clinical fashion that she felt no sense of outrage, and made no attempt to stop him.

“It appealed to his sadistic nature to parade you through the streets without thought to the consequences,” Sorvat continued. “When he suddenly realized he needed you healthy in order to satisfy his base desired he called on me to attend you.”

“You are a man of influence then?” Zenaria commented.

“I am a slave like yourself, as is Pandar. I exist to do the thuski’s bidding and as he ordered me to heal you so I did my best. However, until you opened your eyes just minutes ago I had doubts about my success. You have been asleep for more than a week.”

“A week!” That revelation sobered her more than her weakness. If she had been gone a week then Tren might think her dead – or worse. And worse might still happen. She suppressed a shudder. Better not to let the men attending her see her fear. Then another thought struck her. She made no attempt to cover herself, but she wondered at being left alone in the presence of two men, especially in Sandak society. Unless…

Some hint in her face must have given away her fears. Sorvat smiled. “You need not fear for your virtue, fair maid, neither I nor Pandar are in any position to threaten you, and his supreme magnificence prefers his women willing and conscious.”

In spite of herself, Zenaria coloured, and then the meaning of Sorvat’s words hit home. “You mean…” she began.

Sorvat nodded. “Sadly, it is a requirement for any member of his mightiness’ inner household.”

Zenaria looked around the room. It certainly did not resemble a prison. It was clean and well lit, light filtering through an elaborate latticework that encompassed one wall. A washbasin and pitcher sat on top of a wooden sideboard constructed from sort of exotic wood. The bed itself was comfortable enough, with a sturdy wooden frame and a rope net supporting a mattress stuffed with some material softer than anything she had ever slept on. Then her eyes went to the door. It was solid wood, bound with iron and appeared impenetrable.

Sorvat noticed her appraising look. “The door can be opened only from the outside and I assure you that it is not just locked, but also guarded. As for the latticework, in spite of its airy appearance, it is solid stone and beyond even your strength to break. I tell you this only to save you the time of finding out for yourself. Escape is impossible from this place. His exalted radiance guards his playthings well.”

Zenaria did not miss the undercurrent of hatred and resentment in Sorvat’s voice. “How is it that you dare to speak so openly about your master?”

“Ravar Kund is a cruel master, as I have reason to know, but he does not destroy those things which he values. My skills as a physician are unrivalled. It would not do if he fell ill and I was not available to save his illustriousness. Perhaps when I have trained Pandar to the same level he may do away with me. Until then I am allowed a certain amount of freedom so far as my tongue is concerned.”

“And I am I considered one of the valued things,” Zenaria said almost to herself.

“If you were not, he would not have had me attend you for the last week. Even so, I was doubtful of your chances of recovery. His supreme brilliance treated you so harshly that I feared you would never awaken. Now that you have, however, I am sure he will want you brought before him.”

Sorvat’s last comment caused Zenaria’s stomach to turn over. Something of her fear much have shown, because Sorvat reached out to touch her hand reassuringly. “Fear not for the moment, my pretty barbarian. You are not yet well enough to grace his bed, and it is possible that he may have other plans for you..”

“I am called Zenaria, daughter of Cirilia and Zennar,” Zenaria responded. “I am no man’s chattel.”

“I will do what I can to help you, Zenaria,” Sorvat replied, “but I can only delay his randiness for so long. Ultimately he will decide your fate.” He moved toward the door and rapped sharply on it. “Sorvat,” he called. As the door was opened he spoke one more time. “I will return in a few hours and see about getting you out of the bed. Food and drink will be brought to you shortly. Eat well and get your strength back.”

He did not add that she would probably need all of her strength to face the coming ordeal. The door closed as Pandar followed him out and Zenaria took the opportunity to inspect her body. The minor wounds she had received had healed well, most leaving only hairline scars. She felt only a slight soreness in her thigh and guessed that she would probably be able to put her weight on it without much difficulty. The most dramatic change was her loss of weight. She could count every one of her ribs, and her stomach had shrunk so greatly that she could imagine it touching her backbone. Even her breasts seemed much smaller although they seemed to have lost none of their firmness.

A small table next to the bed held a small mirror. She had never seen one quite like it. Instead of the polished bronze or copper she was used to this one seemed to be made of glass. It reflected her perfectly. Except for a few fading bruises her face appeared unmarked, and she noted that while she was unconscious her hair had been combed and braided. It gave her a strange feeling to think that for the space of a week she had been at the complete mercy of strangers even though neither Sorvat nor Pandar would have been able to take advantage of her. She wondered if Ravar Kund had looked in on her.

Her musings were interrupted by the sound of the bolt on the door being thrown back. A middle-aged woman entered, carrying a tray laden with food, and behind her was another carrying what appeared to be clothing. Without a word to her the woman carrying the food set down her burden and turned and left the chamber. It all happened so quickly that there was no chance for her to attempt to escape, even if she had been strong enough. The woman with the clothing remained, standing quietly while she ate.

Her mouth watered as she looked at the food. She had no idea how she had been fed while she was unconscious, but she was suddenly ravenously hungry. To extreme her disappointment the food appeared to be no more than a crust of dry bread and a bowl of thin broth, and the drink nothing but heavily watered wine. Nevertheless, she ate what was there and drank the wine. Then she turned her attention to the clothing.

She would not have been known what to do with it if the female attendant had not been there. With some effort she managed to move to the edge of the bed. She was very weak, a condition she found a little demoralizing. Sorvat had been wise to insist she remain in bed, but she just had to try on the attire that had been brought to her. First, however, the woman who had remained behind insisted that her hair be unbraided and then combed and brushed, although the ebon tresses were left to flow around her shoulders and down her back rather than being neatly bound up in her customary braid. Then the woman helped her stand and then proceeded to help dress her.

Even by Erogenian standards the clothing was brief, consisting of an emerald belt worked with gold that supported a miniscule piece of fabric that barely covered the area between her legs and did not conceal either of her buttocks. To add a small element of mystery a length of emerald and gold cloth hung from either side of the belt offering minimal concealment for her long legs. For all the privacy it offered she might just as well have been nude, the garment tending to accentuate rather than hide her feminine charms. It hung from her hips and rippled like water when she moved.

There was a similar covering for her breasts. It began as a green and gold necklace from which depended two semi-transparent strips of cloth that covered the upper portions of her breasts, but left most of her impressive bosom uncovered. The pink tint of her nipples could be clearly seen beneath the fabric and for a few seconds Zenaria considered taking it off. “I might as well be naked as wear this,” she muttered. However, womanly pride and curiosity, and the presence of the servant got the better of her and she put on the remainder of the clothing.

There wasn’t much left, but it was beautiful. There was a finely crafted gold chain with links so tiny it seemed impossible that any mortal could have made them. It was wound it around her waist three times and then fastened with a tiny clasp before the final three items were added to her body. One was a tiny gold chain that circled her brow. Centred on the chain, right in the middle of her forehead, hung a brilliant green stone that burned like fire when the sunlight filtering through the latticework struck it. There was also a matching gold and emerald ankle bracelet and matching slippers perfectly sized for her feet. Zenaria had never seen so perfectly coordinated an outfit, brief though it was. The only thing she did not wear was the matching set of gold and emerald earrings. They were made for pierced ears, but Zenaria had never worn such jewellery for fear that in battle an enemy might take advantage of it by tearing them from her earlobes.

Once she was finished the silent maid held up the small mirror, allowing Zenaria to view herself from various angles.

Zenaria gasped. She had never before thought of herself as truly beautiful, but the dazzling young woman revealed by the mirror almost took her breath away. Small wonder that she had been singled out by the slavers who had bought her from the trolls. That thought reminded her of why she was where she was. She could well imagine what her cruel captor might think when he caught sight of her, and she had no doubt that was the main reason she had been dressed this way.

The slight effort of being dressed exhausted her, and she had to sit down on the bed. The maid waited quietly while she rested and Zenaria realized that in her present condition escape was impossible. She would have to make every effort to regain her strength.

A short while later there was the sound of the door being unlocked and Pandar came in. He stared at her with a peculiar look on his face, and Zenaria wondered if he still felt desire for women. However, the look quickly vanished as he stepped toward her. “I am here to take you for a short walk,” he said. “It is important that you regain your ability to move as soon as possible.”

Zenaria did not object. The goal fit in with her plans as well, but she could not help wondering what would happen once Sorvat or Pandar judged her fit enough to be considered recovered. Sorvat had hinted that her thuski master was waiting impatiently for her to be judged healthy, and she had little doubt about why he was interested in her.

Pandar took her arm. Zenaria felt incredibly foolish dressed the way she was and leaning on the arm of a man nearly a foot shorter than she was, but just three steps told her she had little choice. Her head swam and she would have fallen if Pandar had not held her up. He helped her to the door and Zenaria got another glimpse of how impossible escape was going to be. Her comfortable cell was not barred by a single door. Instead there was a twenty foot passage and another door beyond that. On this occasion both doors were open, as it was obvious that Zenaria was not capable of escape.

Passing through the second door she found herself in a long narrow corridor overlooking a precipitous drop. As she looked around she determined that she was high up on the outside of a large square tower. The corridor appeared to run completely around the outside of the tower, an impression that was confirmed when Pandar escorted her to the corner and down the next length of the corridor, Between her and a drop of about sixty feet was a wooden railing about three feet high. Stationed along the corridor at intervals of about twenty feet were dark-robed guards armed with pikes, wicked spears with a hooked tip. The corridor was just wide enough for her and Pandar to pass each guard without having to press too close to the rail.

They went all the way around; passing doors identical to the one that sealed her cell. Zenaria wondered how many other prisoners were being held, but there was no way of telling and she hesitated to ask Pandar. In any case, she was having enough trouble just completing a single circuit. She felt woozy whenever she passed close to the rail. Normally she was not afraid of heights, but in her weakened condition she worried that she might stumble and fall over the edge. It was with some relief when they finally returned to her cell and Pandar helped her to the bed.

“A good start,” Pandar said. “Tomorrow we will increase the walks to four a day. You should be walking normally within a short time.”

Zenaria smiled her thanks, but inside she was astounded at how weak she felt. She determined that she was going to work her way back to full strength as soon as possible.

“I will leave you now,” Pandar said. “More food and drink will be brought to you. In a day or so we will be able to feed you something more than watered wine and broth. Your stomach should have adjusted by then.” He left the room and a short time later the same woman entered with another tray of food and drink. Zenaria ate and drank and then lay back on the bed. She was more tired than she would have thought possible after so little exertion, but her weakness had not diminished her determination to somehow escape. Once she was strong enough she would find a way. She was a warrior of the Snow Leopard. She would not surrender.

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