Devan Chronicles Series: Books 1-3 (73 page)

Dagmar looked frightened and nodded jerkily. “Of course she would.”

Nisim nodded and left. He knew he was right. It wasn’t him, but the mistress who was to blame for his stripes. Trista didn’t see it, or maybe she had never witnessed it before today, but whatever the reason for her dislike of him, it was the mistress’s fault and none of his.

Nisim trotted downstairs and entered the room to find Nona standing naked before him. He gasped at the sight. The scene reminded him that strongly of the palace. It was almost as if he were back there again. Nona could easily have been the Matriarch standing with her girls as they dressed her. Nona was standing in the middle of the room with her arms raised as Trista and Magda dried and powdered her. Her hair was roughly draped over one breast lending her a tussled look that appealed to him immensely. He couldn’t stop his eyes roving and fixing on the dark triangle below her flat belly. He pulled his gaze reluctantly away and found her eyes. She blushed at his frank regard.

“You see?” Magda said with a chuckle. She aimed a grateful smile at Nisim. “Any man would want you.”

Nisim nodded eagerly. “I told you that.”

Nona blushed and tried to cover herself when she realised that she was just standing there letting him look.

“No, no! You mustn’t do that.” Trista said and pulled Nona’s hands away. “Nisim doesn’t mind, but a patron won’t like you covering up.”

“But I feel silly,” Nona said with her almond skin darkening still further.

“There’s nothing to feel silly about,” Nisim said with his eyes sweeping over her thighs, the curve of her hips, and then on to her smiling eyes. “You’re beautiful Nona. They will be fighting over you.”

“Really?”

“Really, I swear it,” Nisim said with a nod and Nona relaxed a little more. “I have Dagmar’s paints,” he said to the three.

“I’ll do her face,” Magda said.

“I’m doing her hair,” Trista said.

Nona looked hopefully at him. “Oh all right! I’ll do the rest of you. Are you sure you haven’t done this before?” Nisim teased as he found the file. He crouched down and she raised a delicate foot onto his knee. “Never had to do this for a woman before,” he grumbled.

“No,” Trista said. “He had a palace full of women doing his!”

Nona giggled and Nisim grinned not letting her see the truth. He
did
have one of the girls do his, but he had never let her paint them.

“When I’ve done this, what colour would you like?”

“Blue?” Magda suggested.

“No, the dress is blue,” Trista said.

“How about pearl?” Nisim said. “Talitha liked…” he broke off with a frown.

“The Matriarch?” Nona gsped. “Can we?”

Trista looked down at Nisim and shook her head in pity. He stared up at her with sorrow crushing him down. By the God, what was he going to do? He loved the Matriarch, he knew he did, but Jarek was right. A slave had no place and no status. The thought of the Matriarch and him together was ludicrous and he knew it. He was a prisoner in this city. He would never escape. He knew it now, but he had to wonder if Jarek had always known. The old man had held hope out to him last year but…

“Can we Nisim?” Nona said again.

Nisim smiled at her. “Of course we can. Dagmar gave me the whole set.”

Nona squealed and clapped her hands, but Trista was still looking at him with pity. He nodded for her to go back to her pampering. She gave him a long look then turned her attention to Nona.

Nisim filed Nona’s toenails and carefully painted them, and then he rose to do her hands. Trista arranged Nona’s hair to frame her sweet face and to give the jewelled headdress a backdrop. The jewels were only coloured glass, but the gold and silver was real, and so was Nona’s beauty.

“There,” Trista said. “Are you done?”

“Just about,” Magda said.

Nisim nodded that he too was finished. “Don’t touch them,” he warned. “They’re still wet.”

Nona stood like a statue trying not to move as they stepped back to admire her. “Is it all right?” she said nervously.

“More than all right,” Nisim said. “It’s splendid.”

Magda and Trista agreed with emphatic nods.

“A little powder and perfume?” he asked them.

“Her breasts need something,” Magda said tapping her lips.

“What? They look good to me.”

Trista coughed. “Of course they do.”

“You’re a man,” Magda added by way of explanation.

“So?” Nisim said even more puzzled.

“All men like a woman’s breasts. Makes them remember their mothers!”

“So? If they look good to me then they must be good for the patrons—right?”

“Maybe, seeing as it’s you we’re talking about, but you’re a whore. Whore’s see things differently. They look too dark to me.”

Nisim tilted his head. Nona had very nice breasts. They were small, but their shape was good. They were nicely rounded and the nipples jutted upward in challenge. They looked just right to him.

Nisim shrugged. “If you say so.”

Magda found the powder. “A little of this will lighten them, and a bit more for her cheeks, I think. Then some paint on the nipples—not too much mind!”

Nisim watched Magda work and he did see an improvement. Nona was already gorgeous but she was even more so when Magda was finished. She was glowing, like a girl at her wedding. Nisim’s good mood plummeted at the thought. Nona was a whore like him, or she would be after today. She would never have a wedding.

“Now the perfume,” Trista said. “Essence of Saposia,” she said inhaling the essence.

Saposia was a mountain flower with a sweet scent. It was very expensive. Talitha liked it a lot and always bought it when the traders came from Deva. It grew in many high places, but the Elvissan Mountains were too cold for it to flourish. Trista dabbed the sweet smelling liquid in strategic places on Nona’s body—her neck, between her breasts, and finally between her legs.

“That tickles!” Nona said squirming.

“If you think that tickles wait until tonight!” Magda said with a smirk.

Nisim helped her dress and then stepped back to admire the results. By the God she was wonderful. Nisim hardened at the sight of her in clothes and wished she were for him and not some stranger.

“We had better go up. The mistress will be opening the doors soon,” Trista said and Nona went out the door first.

Nisim collected the paints and quickly put them under Dagmar’s pillow where she would be sure to find them. Trista and the others were gone when he turned back so he hurried up the stairs to find a crowd admiring Nona. He slipped along the wall and sat in a quiet corner out of harm’s way. He didn’t need the mistress’s regard tonight. He hadn’t touched Nona, well not very much, but he wasn’t willing to put himself forward in case she disagreed. Nona basked in the adoration heaped upon her. He was glad for her and hoped she wouldn’t be disappointed with her night. He would do anything to guarantee it for her, but all he could realistically do was hope for the best.

The mistress was beaming at everyone. She was well pleased with Trista for transforming Nona into a princess. She examined Nona from all sides and said something to her that had Nona blushing and smiling at the same time. Nisim watched as his friends chattered excitedly, but he took no part. How could they be so friendly with that woman? They were talking with the mistress as if she were one of them, but she wasn’t and could never be! Mistress Lakshmi was born a free woman—a commoner true, but still free.

The mistress said it was time to open and shooed everyone into place. She looked around the room once more, looking for Nisim perhaps, but he eased back further into the shadows. She didn’t see him. She turned away with a puzzled frown to open the doors.

That night was busy for Nisim. He had two women to pleasure as soon as the doors opened. They had heard about his brand and that he had been Talitha’s personal slave. He managed both of them, and they left satisfied, or so he thought. The mistress seemed happy with the fee anyway, but two was his limit for a while. He drank the brew all the males had to drink and waited for it to work.

Nona hadn’t been chosen once in all that time.

The mistress—the stupid bitch—had overpriced her. There weren’t many men willing to pay ten gold for a girl, even if she was a virgin. The poor thing sat in quiet misery as Magda went up then Trista. All the girls had been up at least once before things started going horribly wrong. Nisim knew something wasn’t right when the mistress began bowing and scraping in the extreme. He craned his neck to see what was happening but what he found was a puzzle. A woman like any other had come in with a man following her like a bodyguard. She was ugly, ugly,
ugly!

“The first prince’s daughter!” Magda said. “The mistress is honoured indeed.”

“Oh? Maybe the mistress will do the
honours
then,” Nisim said grumpily.

Trista laughed but covered it when heads turned toward her. She needn’t have worried. The mistress beckoned Nisim and Nona, and they went forward to their doom.

“Lady Mireya, this is Nisim.”

“Show me,” Mireya snapped.

“Show her the brand, Nisim,” Lakshmi said.

Nisim gritted his teeth and pulled his shirt down to reveal the mark.

“So it’s true,” Mireya said. “How does it happen that a common brothel owner buys such a treasure?”

“The Matriarch’s Chamberlain is a friend, Lady. When our beloved Matriarch tired of the boy, Jarek remembered me.”

“I see. I will give you twenty gold for him.”

“I’m sorry, Lady Mireya. Nisim is my prize, he’s not for sale.”

Mireya’s eyes bored into Lakshmi. “Thirty gold.”

“No.”

“Fifty.”

“N-no,” Lakshmi said sick at the thought of turning down such a sum.

Nisim was pleased. Maybe he had misjudged Lakshmi after all. Could it be that she was protecting him as Jarek said she would? Surely not. Why beat him then? No, she just thought to earn more from working him here. That must be it.

Mireya’s eyes glittered at being balked. “I will take him for the night then. The girl is for my man.”

The mistress bobbed her head, and the deal was struck.

Nisim led Mireya to a room while Nona did the same for the guard. He hoped everything would work out for her, but he had his hands full—literally—with the first prince’s daughter. Mireya was all over him the moment Nisim closed the door. She ripped his shirt off and drew blood with her nails. He hissed as she bit his nipple, but he didn’t backhand her as he wished to. He was all control, control,
control
tonight!

“Undress me.” Mireya said stepping back from him.

Nisim jumped to obey. It was better than having her rip him to pieces. He had her naked in no time flat and pretended to like what he saw. He hadn’t had much practise at pretending. The women he serviced were generally young and good looking. Not so Mireya.

“Strip!”

Nisim did that, all the while pretending he was doing it for Talitha. To his surprise it began to work and he hardened ready for what was to come. He moved forward to do his duty but he was a little confused when she lay not on the bed but knelt on the floor.

“Down here. Behind me.”

Nisim took a deep breath and moved into position. At least this way he didn’t have to look at her ugly face. By the God, he wished he were with Nona!

“Well?” Mireya snapped. “What are you waiting for?”

Nisim gritted his teeth and fitted himself against her. A slight push and he was in and moving. He closed his eyes trying to see Talitha, but Mireya ruined it with her grunting and groaning. Talitha never did that, she sort of purred. Yes, purred like a big cat, and moved like one as well. Very sensuous it was, but this fat sow sounded more like a pig wallowing in the mud. Not that she was fat really, but she carried herself as if she was. Sort of droop shouldered and slovenly.

“AEiii, Nisim!” a voice screamed and sobbed, “No, no, noooo!”

“Nona?” Nisim said turning toward the door. “Nona!” He jumped up and ran out the room naked as he was.

“Slave!” Mireya roared in anger.

Nisim slammed into a door but it was the wrong one. The room was empty. He spun on his heel and ran back the other way. He shouldered another door open. Inside he found Nona naked in the corner and crying fit to break his heart. His eyes narrowed at the sight of the blood on the sheets, but then his world seemed to haze red and a roaring filled his ears when he saw the bruises. Nona’s face was a mass of bruises on one side, and her breasts were badly scratched and bitten. One eye was swelling shut. She reached for him like a child seeking comfort. The world slowed as he turned to find the bodyguard calmly dressing. He had his uniform on but unbuttoned and his armour lay discarded at his feet. The man was turning toward him.

“You bastard!” Nisim howled in rage and launched himself to slam the man against the wall. “I’ll kill you!”

And he did. It took him just one punch.

Nisim was strong, but not that strong. The man had flinched when he saw the punch driving in and caused Nisim to miss badly. His fist, aimed for the bodyguard’s jaw, smashed the man’s larynx instead. Nisim stepped back and watched the guard flail around trying to breath. He watched him die and wished he hadn’t needed to kill him. The bastard had deserved it, but now he was stained with the man’s blood.

“He hurt me,” Nona sobbed. “He laughed at me and hurt me…”

Nisim nodded and waited for the Lakshmi to come. He would be executed for this, he had no doubt.

“It’s all right now. He won’t hurt you again—not ever.”

* * *

“—and all of our ships have returned safely,” Chamberlain Jarek said and leaned back a little to massage his left arm.

Talitha frowned. Jarek seemed to have a cramp of some sort. She frowned at one of her slaves. Instantly the girl jumped forward with a cushion for Jarek, but Talitha was still annoyed. She should not have to tell her girls how to serve.

Jarek was still waiting for her comments.

“That is good, very good Jarek. Have we estimates on the damage inflicted?”

Jarek nodded. “Our strike leaders report ten small towns, sixteen farms, and twelve villages completely destroyed along the border. The fleet reports significant damage to two port towns also. We have booty and slaves to cover the costs of the expedition five times over.”