It was opened by the slaver. He was dressed in a towel and held one in his hand. "My apologies, I have called you out of your bath...I was hoping to talk with you about your last visit."
Pudgy nodded letting him inside without hesitation. "Ahmi...bring the king a drink," he said sharply.
A boy rattled the dishes harshly and carefully poured a glass. It was not filled to the top. It would have spilled before he could have brought it if it had been filled any more. The boy was shaking like a tree sapling in a stout wind!
Everest took the cup and sat down in a companionable dining area. "You were with my wife. Someone said she was bleeding before you...had sex with her." He shifted in the chair uncomfortably. "Was she?"
"It was only a few small smears. She said she was not hurting, but yes...she was bleeding. I didn't know at the time that she was being ridden like the village whore, or I would have been far more concerned, my lord."
Pudgy's tone was derisive. Even being completely polite, he managed to convey where he thought the blame should be placed...on Everest's head. The slaver cocked his head at the king deciding to just simply say what was on him mind. "Why did you offer every one of your business partners a go at her that day?"
"Did I? I don't know. I don't remember why I hurt her, or even if I meant to do it."
"You appeared to be in a very good mood, but slightly malicious towards her. Were you angry at her for something?"
"Maybe..." Everest tried to read him and sat up straighter with a look of alarm. "You are psychic!"
"You knew that before you came to my room," the man chided him gently. "For shame, my king, have you already forgotten my name? I am curious when you figured it out. You couldn't read me the last time, and yet you were simply puzzled about it. This time, you just knew..."
"Yes, it is strange, I would imagine," Everest stated with a small wry smile. "If you knew she was injured, why didn't you stop?" He couldn't help asking. It was the entire reason he was sitting here. The slaver stared at him solemnly.
"That is my business. Your business is why you allowed it to go on for so long. She is your wife. She is the nation's queen. If you are tired of being a king, just leave her."
"Tired of being a king..." Everest sighed thoughtfully. "Is that really what you think it was? I tried to kill her because she angered me, and I was tired of being a king..."
"It was my impression at the time." The slaver frowned. "I have been watching you since I returned. You feel very concerned for her. Also, very fond of her," he added sounding rather unamused. "Has her near death changed you so much, my king?"
"It must have," Everest shrugged vaguely. "We got along great when I met her. I adored Destiny with all of my heart. She was very sweet, very loving, and very fun when she was smiling. So pretty, both inside and out," he stated with a long sigh. "I am wondering if she is still that sweet girl I married so long ago."
"I am wondering," the slaver stated carefully, "how a person could be after the way you treated her. I have been asking around, too, my king. The people say what I saw when I was last here is an everyday occurance. That day alone it got out of hand and a bit more extreme than usual, but it was common."
"Yeah, I am getting that by now. It was all my fault..." Everest got up pacing the floor like a caged tiger.
"You are restless. You do not like being kept contained."
"I have never liked it," Everest agreed. "I feel like this castle is suffocating me."
"Then, go outside," the fat slaver told him firmly.
"I cannot! I have to have a whole legion of guards when I leave." Everest growled in irritation noticing when he did that the little slave boy shrank further into the corner he was hiding in. "I am scaring your lad," he pointed out in frustration.
"He is always scared," the slaver waved it aside as inconsequential. "Come, my lord, this room is not big enough for your restless soul." The pudgy male stood up very slowly. "Ahmi, bring me my clothes."
The boy shot off of the floor and flew over to a small chest. Ahmi drew forth dark black cloth and leather.
Pudgy dropped the towel clearly not the least bit embarrassed by his short physic or overly large paunch.
The boy dropped the pile at the slaver's feet and began to wrap a silky, black, skirt wrapper around his waist for him. It was barely large enough to fit him. Ahmi tied it in place carefully.
The slaver sat back down letting the boy have one of his legs. The material Ahmi pulled over his muscular calves to his fat thighs was styled in an unusual fashion. It was tied up almost to the length of the wrapper hiding his legs from view.
Then, a suede short boot was tied tightly over the leggings.
When both legs were properly covered, he stood up again. Ahmi pulled a sleeveless shirt over his head and straightened what was left of the slaver's hair over it.
"Thank you, boy," the slaver sighed. "You know I can't leave you here alone, so grab your cloak." Ahmi hesitated before he went back to the chest for the thick, brown thing. "I am not taking a chance with this one."
Ahmi and the slaver escorted Everest out. They went down the hallway and several long, twisting corridors. Everest began to chuckle softly until they both looked at him with quizzical expressions. "Are you trying to get me lost within my own realm? This is my castle and you know it better than I do," the king told them in mirth.