Hearing the faint calls of migrating geese, Afsoon reined in her stallion and removed the hood from her hunting falcon. It clung to her leather glove, talons flexing in anticipation. When the vee formation was directly overhead, she loosened the birds jesses and sent it soaring in pursuit.
Moments later it plummeted down on the flock, taking one of it's members with a puff of feathers. Afsoon saw her bird drop to the ground with it's prey behind the bushes at the edge of the oasis. A gentle nudge with her heels sent her mount galloping to where the bird landed. The falcon waited patiently atop it's kill until she dismounted, then flew to her outstretched gloved hand.
Returning the falcon to it's perch on her saddle, she drew her knife and expertly removed the birds heart, giving it to her hunting companion as a reward. Hearing hoof beats, she looked around to see Azlan and the rest of the hunting party riding toward her calling her name, "Afsoon. Afsoonβ¦"
Afsoon arose from her cot, blinking the sleep from her eyes, savoring the bittersweet memories of her dream. A long and bitter month had passed and she was still in General Risay's harem, a sexual plaything to be used as her master saw fit. With a sigh she gathered up her soaps and lotions and walked down the sun lit hall toward the baths.
Discarding her robe, she eased into the soothing perfumed waters, sighing in pleasure. Laving her body with a scented soap, she was pleased to see the bruises from her last encounter with General Risay had almost disappeared. Why did he ravish her so brutally? She was fawningly compliant and amorous, yet he was still coldly abusive. A flash of hatred swept through her.
If it costs me my life, I will make him pay for what he has done to my mother and Iβ¦
The piping voice of Ahmed the chief eunuch interrupted her vengeful reverie. He waddled through the entrance to the baths leading several women by a chain attached to their collars, their heads hung low in fear and shame at their nudity. Many were olive skinned or fair, but one stood out from the rest and Afsoon's eyes were drawn to her. She was tall with skin of bluish black, her carriage erect, her head held high as she looked about her with interest rather than fear. Afshoon noticed her wrists were shackled and the other women's were not. Snapping black eyes met hers as she stared and the woman flashed her a dazzling smile. Afshoon smiled in return, sensing the woman's strength and courage. She stood up in the shallow bath, water sheeting from her body as they gazed appraisingly at one another. Then the woman and her unhappy companions were led to the far end of the pool to be washed and prepared for their lives as members of Risay's harem.
Afsoon lay back in the waters, images of the ebony-skinned beauty flashing through her mind. In spite of her captivity, the woman seemed proud, almost defiant, yet her eyes spoke of a tenderness cleverly concealed. Completing her bath, Afshoon returned to her quarters to find a breakfast of goats milk, pomegranates, dates, flatbread and honey waiting for her. Although it made her flesh crawl, she repeatedly lavished false praise and affection on her brutal captor; doing this, and by satisfying his depraved urges, she had become one of his favorites. Savoring each bite, she then wrapped her multi-colored robe about her and slid into her sandals to begin another day of captivity.
***
Afsoon pulled the curtain aside and stepped from her room.
Another day as a caged bird, compelled to sing sweetly for it's captorβ¦
lost in thought she turned and almost collided with the tall black woman she had seen in the baths. She was dressed in a colorful robe and her hair was close cropped against her head. The woman smiled at Afsoon and she smiled back.
Afsoon cleared her throat, "My name is Afsoon."
The woman smiled and nodded, but did not speak. Afsoon repeated herself in another Farsi dialect, then a third. She received a smile in return, nothing more. Then Afsoon remembered the universal trade language her father used when negotiating with silk merchants.
"Afsoon I am called. You?"
The woman's smile became a broad grin.
"Farisa of the Selam people. At last, one who speaks that I can understand. This place, where is it? Why am I here?"
"Azerbaidastan, it is called. The palace of one General Risay is where we are." She hesitated, unsure of the words to convey the purpose they all served.
"To pleasure and amuse the general. To do his bidding. His property, we all are."