Ziva watched Kara dance with drama and flair. She did not approve of her allowing the young men to touch her so intimately. Does she know she will lose standing with the better young men, those who will treat her better? Ziva shook her head. No, Kara rarely thinks about how her actions affect her.

The music changed again, to a faster beat. Ziva’s foot bounced to the cheerful music. Tawna nodded to her partner and sat beside Ziva, fanning herself with a fan she produced from a hidden pocket. A servant appeared, offering refreshments.

“Oh, the orange juice is so refreshing.” Tawna smiled at the young woman as she took a glass off the tray.

“Is there any water? It solves my thirst.” Ziva looked up at the girl who shook her head. “Could you please bring me a glass of water?” She added a smile with the request.

The girl nodded and slipped away.

“Water, again?” Tawna playfully tapped her arm. “Only water? I have seen you drink juices. Why only water tonight?”

“I feel safer with water. Little can be added that I cannot see or smell.”

“Silly girl,” Tawna laughed. “Who would put anything in our drinks?”

Ziva shrugged.

“Would you join me in this dance?” Crites stood before Ziva holding out his hand. The music lilted, enticing. She took his hand and moved with him to the dance floor

“I’m glad you found me, again,” Ziva said as he whirled her out.

“I promised you another dance.”

The music encouraged movement without the “shiver and shaking” Ziva abhorred. Crites kept his hands away from intimate touching. His friendly manner enticed Ziva. A definite positive among so many negatives. They shared small talk, and when the music changed, he led her back to her seat. He bowed, as she sat, asking, “Could we do this again?”

“Certainly,” she replied and watched him walk away.

Tawna raised her eyebrows and Ziva shrugged.

Kara joined them. “The musicians say they need a break. How can they need a break? They strum a lute or bang on a drum, maybe blow on a pipe?”

“The answer to your question, Kara.” Tawna pointed to the musicians who left their instruments and trouped to the refreshment table. “They must believe they need a rest, a drink, and something to eat. They’ll be back.”

They were interrupted by a young man, offering sweets. Each girl chose one, then helped herself to a drink from another tray, produced by another young man who even had water for Ziva. She and Tawna sat back and listened as Kara bubbled about all the dancing and the young men.

The refreshed musicians resumed their seats and struck up a loud, fast tune. Kara was swept onto the dance floor with yet another partner. A different man drew Tawna out to dance. Ziva sat alone watching. The priest, Qinten, who she had seen following them off and on during the evening came forward.

“Would you like to dance?”

“No, I think not. This music is much too fast,” she replied.

“I agree. May I join you?”

Ziva glanced around the room and saw Orak. “I am sorry, but my father is beckoning. I must leave.” She stood and hurried to where he stood, watching the dancing.

“You don’t want to dance with Qinten? He will be powerful someday.”

“Who is he? He has been following us around all evening. He gives me the creeps.” Ziva shivered involuntarily.

“Creeps?” Orak chuckled. “Pretty strong. He is a priest of Lorca, on his way to becoming their Hight Priest. Powerful.”

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

“I don’t care. There is a darkness within him. Power and wealth are for men, not me.” Ziva shook her curls and stamped her foot.

Orak shook his head. He knew well his daughter’s stance on this issue. They stood together for a short time until Orak signaled a servant. “Please have my carriage brought around.”

Together, Orak and Ziva found Roven and thanked him for the party, then slipped out the door. Their carriage and driver were waiting.

“No interest in any of those young men, Ziva?” Orak asked as they rode through the quiet streets toward home.”

“None. Well, one. Crites asked me to dance, twice. He was respectful. He said he’d come back for another dance, but—”

“—you left before he could return?” Orak finished.

“Probably. I do not like parties like these. I do not like to be on display, as one of the ‘goods for sale,’ much like a side of beef in your market”

“It must feel like that to a young woman of your sensibilities.”

“Promise me one thing?” Ziva stared into Orak’s eyes.

“What? You know I will give you whatever I can.”

“Do not sell me to that Qinten. He is dark inside.”

“Not even for money and power?” Orak teased.

“Especially not for the money and power.”

~ ~ ~

Shouting and yelling woke Nat in the middle of the night. He tried to close his ears to it, but the sound came close to the dorm room where he lay, before receding. He pulled his thin blanket over his ears to dampen any further noise. It was a temporary solution.

Just as he felt himself drowsing into sleep, he was jolted awake. A whip lash sizzled through the air and onto the victim’s back. The poor man screamed.

Nat moved, thinking to fling the blanket back. Drak snaked his hand out from his nearby cot and latched on to Nat’s wrist.

“Don’t,” Drak breathed.

“Don’t what?” Nat responded, his voice no louder than Drak’s.

“You can do nothing to help that poor man. We have heard it before. Remember? The Master must be angry.”

Nat lay listening to the lash striking the unfortunate slave’s back, his terrified screams, their anguish. It was not the first time he woke to such screams. He learned early to lie still, hold himself separate, away from the sound.

Shortly after he arrived in Qinten’s home, Nat had been wakened by this same noise. The sound drew him up from sleep and he sat horrified, listening to it.

Another boy, not much older than him could not contain his fears. He jumped from his mat and ran out to see what caused the turbulence in their kettle cleaning grounds. Nat heard the boy’s shout, followed by a short silence. The boy screamed. The whistle of the lash returned. The boy’s screams echoed through the garden. At last they stilled.

The boys in the dorm lay on their mats, fearing to utter a sound, lest they, too, should be found and receive the same treatment. Nat had shuddered through the remainder of the night. His body eventually relaxed into sleep as the sun peeped through the window, the signal for the boys to rise and prepare for another day of work.

Exhausted, Nat shuffled toward the cleaning scullery, eyes half open. The boy in front of him stopped suddenly. Nat bumped into his back.

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

Rather than the usual growl and slap, the boy he had bumped into said nothing. He only pointed. Nat’s eyes opened wide as he followed the pointing finger. The boy who had left the dorm lay on the ground, his back bloodied and bruised. A boy near Nat ran to the bushes lining the cleaning ground and vomited. Nat fought his stomach, refusing to be one who showed such weakness. Not with Kenji watching.

One of the bigger boys threw his shoulders back and marched over to the boy on the ground. He touched the beaten boy’s neck and shook his head.

“I expect Gowdy needs to know,” the boy said, looking up from the broken body.

“I’ll tell him.” Another larger boy stepped away from the mob of staring boys and sped toward the kitchens.

Not many breaths later, the boy returned with Gowdy following close behind.

“Move on,” Gowdy growled. “There is nothing to see here. You have things to be doing. Do them.”

Nat shook himself and moved to join the lines at the latrines.

Later that evening as the boys gathered on the grass, after working all day, Gowdy strolled from the kitchen and stood in front of them.

“Kai did not survive the lashing,” Gowdy said. “You must learn now that your lives are important to the Master only when you do as he demands. Do nothing to make him angry. Do not interfere with the Master’s punishments of another. If you do, you will receive a greater punishment. Kai interfered. He no longer lives.”

Gowdy stared into the faces of the boys sitting in the grass in front of him. “Never, ever interfere. We need you healthy and in the kitchen.” He allowed the sound of his voice to drop on the boys, before turning on his heel and leaving them.

Now, Nat remembered those words. Never interfere. It hurt him to lay in silence and listen to another be punished. He had learned over the years that many times the punishment was undeserved. Qinten had a vile temper and when things outside his domain went poorly, a slave took the punishment.

Nat sighed and nodded. Drak released his wrist. Nat clenched his jaws and dug his fingernails into the palms of his hands, trying not to hear. It did not help. The Master must be angry indeed, for the lashing seemed to go on forever.

Finally, it ended. Nat heard the slave’s quiet sobs. In the silence of the room, the others hardly breathed. Nat promised himself he would never be the one Qinten chose to expend his anger on. If that happened, Nat promised himself he would not scream. He would not give the Master the pleasure of his screams.