One Night with the Magician

The man standing in front of me was taller than most, with shaggy greying hair that hung in his deep-set eyes. He regarded me with a leering half-smile, his muscular arms crossed in front of his chest, the dark blue tattoos that covered his forearms on clear display. I suppressed a shudder as I returned his gaze. I had yet to learn this man's name, but I knew him well, far better than I wished. He was one of the Temple's most frequent worshippers, and I was his favourite vessel, his chosen path to the Goddess.

"Do you wish to worship the Goddess today, sir?" The words came out automatically, my reluctance easily hidden under chirpy tones. The man responded with a rote nod and raised eyebrows. I turned and opened to door to the worship chamber, and beckoned him to follow me.

Inside, I went about my preparations mechanically. I lit the incense and secured it in its burner, put the tea on to boil, glanced around to make sure all the candles were still burning, and then unbuttoned my short, flimsy dress and hung it on its hook. The man was already naked when I turned to face him, kneeling on the rug in front of the bed as he recited the routine prayer. "Goddess of light, all-loving Mother, grant me your brilliance as I commune with you." He began to swell as he mumbled the words, and sweat glistened on his tattooed chest. I suppressed a shudder. Few of the worshippers cared how the ritual affected me, but this man was always rougher with me than most.

After finishing his prayer he was silent, eyeing me as I poured two cups of the tea. I carried his over to him, and placed a hand on his head as I offered him the cup. "Today, the Goddess invites you into communion," I intoned. I retrieved my own cup and perched on the edge of the bed as I downed the hot liquid. I was used to its bitter taste by now; the tea was a potent mix of herbs meant to prevent both pregnancy and the spread of disease.

He finished his drink, leered at me once more, and then spoke the final words of the liturgy. "Then let us be one."

I lay back on the bed and he joined me a moment later, running a calloused hand over my breasts before positioning himself between my legs. I tried not to wince at his first thrust, the initial entry was usually the most painful part.

He found his rhythm quickly, his hands grasping my shoulders and his body pressing into mine as he ploughed repeatedly into me. One hand found its way into my hair and closed into a fist, tugging painfully on my braid. I squeezed my eyes closed and attempted to shut him out, allowing my mind to wander back to my life before all this. For a brief moment my mind danced with images of running through lush forests and swimming in the ocean with my young friends, and my mother's voice singing as she baked. Then I cringed as a particularly painful thrust brought me back to the present. Those days are gone, I thought. I hadn't seen the green of a forest in twelve summers now and I likely never would again; there was little point in my reminiscence.

The good thing about this particular man was that his worship sessions never lasted long. It was over in minutes, and then he was rolling off of me, panting as he pulled his garments back on. I remained motionless on the bed until he left; once I was alone I rose to heat more water. I sponged myself off quickly, then donned my dress again, straightened out the room, and headed back outside to my station adjacent to the worship chambers.

The temple had become busier in my absence, the marble walkway crowded with people coming to make their offerings. I could smell sweet, cloying smoke coming from the altar room nearby. I watched several poor families making their way across the walkway, their lack of means evident by their small, scant tattoos, their children's ragged clothes, and the small sheaths of grain they carried as their offerings. A few of the men glanced at me, longing etched on their faces. They knew, as I did, that they could never afford to worship in such an extravagant way.

Another man was approaching me now, this one young, lanky and bearded. He gave me a smile, and I returned it easily. This particular man- Carghan was his name- was another regular worshipper. Several times now he had offered to sneak me out of the temple and make me his wife, always with a wink that told me he wasn't entirely serious. Any true follower of the Goddess would not consider kidnapping one of her priestesses. His shirt slipped open slightly as he neared me, revealing the tail end of his tattoo. Unlike most people, whose tattoos were simply swirling patterns or geometric lines- the bare minimum amount of ink needed to indicate their status as a free adult man or woman- Carghan's tattoo was an intricately scaled snake that curved and wound itself around his torso, its head landing halfway down his left thigh. I met his eyes and smiled again, quickly. "Do you wish to worship the Goddess today, sir?"

***

The crowds were beginning to thin out by the time I returned to my post after servicing what I assumed would be my last worshipper of the day. The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows over the marble floors and glinting off the golden ornaments in the stonework of the temple walls. I glanced around to ensure that there were no more approaching men, then turned and began to walk towards the worship room to clean up for the night.

"Excuse me." An unfamiliar female voice caused me to turn, and I found myself facing a tall, extravagantly dressed woman. She was clad in a billowy, long sleeved dress of a deep purple material, and wore a jeweled black scarf over her hair. Her tattoos were mostly covered with the exception of what looked like a leaf on the visible part of her collarbone. A dark-skinned, uniformed man stood a few feet away with his eyes on her, clearly a guard of some sort. "I'd like to worship the Goddess," she informed me. "If it's not too late, that is."

My heartbeat picked up as I returned her gaze. Females who chose to worship the Goddess in this way were rare; they were not forbidden, but in all my years here I'd had yet to have one choose me as her vessel. I gaped at her for a few long moments, then shook my head and plastered on a smile. "Of course," I said, trying not to let my voice shake. "Come with me."

I led her into the worship chamber, then busied myself with the preparations. Can I do this? In honestly I wasn't quite certain what this worship session would require of me. "I... I hope you don't mind," I said as I slipped out of my dress, "but I've never had a female worshipper before, and I'm not sure I know how..."

"It's fine," she cut me off, her tone brusque. "You don't need to know how to do anything. I'm not here to worship your Goddess."

I whirled around and stared at the woman uncertainly. She had disrobed but was not kneeling on the mat. Her hair was loose, I saw, its soft golden strands hanging around her shoulders. Her tattoos were unlike any I'd seen before, and they put Carghan's to shame. Her entire body was covered by swirling, verdant green vines with small red flowers that contrasted sharply with her creamy skin. They snaked down the length of her arms and legs, wound around her full breasts, and ended just below her throat. I gaped.

"Your Goddess is a sham, and if she were real she'd be cruel and unworthy of my worship," the woman continued, seemingly oblivious to my staring. "Would the all-loving Mother really command one of her daughters to be enslaved in her temple, to be used over and over by men who care nothing for her?"

My gaze shifted from her body to her wide hazel eyes, and I tried to form a coherent response. Nothing came out.

"What's your name, my dear?" she asked me.

"Uh... Rosette," I stammered.

She nodded, then strode over to the bed and sat down, patting the space next to her to indicate that I should join her. "Would I be correct to assume that you were sold to this place, Rosette?"

I nodded meekly as I lowered myself onto the bed.

"By your parents?"

I looked away as I nodded again. "They were poor, and it was the only way for them to ensure that I'd be well fed for the rest of my life."

She snorted. "How old were you?"

"I was twelve."

"Twelve," she repeated, meeting my eyes and shaking her head. "They sold you into this when you were only twelve."

I eyed her warily. "Look, I... I don't understand why you're here. You said you wanted to worship the Goddess, but now that you have me alone you've made it clear that you don't even believe in her. You've taken off your clothes, yet you do not wish to commune with me. What is it that you want from me?"

She returned my gaze, her lips curving into a smile. "You ask the wrong question," she said. "What you should be asking is what I want for you, not from you. And the answer to that is freedom. I've come here to set you free, Rosette- if, in fact, you desire freedom."

My eyes narrowed. "And how do you plan to set me free?" I demanded.

"It's simple," she replied. "The reason I took off my dress is so that you can wear it. You and I will stay in here for a few more minutes, and then you will dress in my garments and leave. Dorren, my guard, will escort you from this place and take you somewhere safe."

I stared at her uncertainly. "So... you want to switch places?" My voice trembled as I spoke. Is she serious?

She nodded.

"And what will happen to you?"

"I'll escape this place easily enough," she replied. "I should be able to meet up with you and Dorren later this evening."

I looked at her for another moment, then shook my head. "But... how? I don't look like you. You're blonde and I'm not, you're beautiful and I'm... plain."

I heard her laugh softly. "That's why I came in wearing such an extravagant dress. Under all those clothes, you'll look fairly like me. We do have similar eyes, and skin colour, and we're about the same height." I met her hazel eyes again, and nodded; all this was true.

"And you are not plain," she continued. "You're actually quite beautiful." She rose and beckoned to me. "Come and see."

I followed her to the full length mirror that sat in one corner of the room, and we stood in front of it together. Her breasts were only slightly larger than my own, I noticed, and the areolas of her nipples a few shades darker. "Your body is beautiful," she told me, giving my naked form in the mirror an admiring glance. "If you work in this profession, then it has doubtless aroused dozens of men, But even if no one but you had seen it, your body would still be lovely. You're a woman, and so beauty is your birthright, whether you realize it or not."

I shook my head. "Perhaps, but even so, I am plain," I insisted. "Look at those flowers all over your body. I have nothing like that."

"So you feel you aren't beautiful without tattoos?" She chuckled. "Well, perhaps once you are free we can take care of that." She gestured at the elegant purple dress draped over a nearby chair. "Try it on."

Putting on the dress proved more difficult than I'd expected. Sliding the large, full skirt over my hips took some effort, and I found that I was unable to lace up the top on my own. The other woman took over, pulling the corset tight. "What's your name?" I asked as she worked.

"I am Dhara," she replied as she tied the final knot that would secure the dress in place. She reached for the shimmering black scarf that sat on the chair and draped its silky fabric over my head, arranging it so that it covered my hair. Then she gestured at the mirror again.

My eyes widened as I took in my reflection, I had never seen myself look so elegant before. The dark fabric of the dress contrasted nicely with my pale skin, and the head covering made my eyes look large and luscious. "You look like a proper lady now," Dhara exclaimed, smiling. "Walk out of this room in that outfit and no one will guess that you're a runaway slave."

I nodded as I stared at the image in the mirror for a moment longer. Then I turned to her. "Are you certain you'll be able to get out?"

"Absolutely," she assured me. "You needn't worry about me, my dear. I've set several women free in this way."

"So Dorren, your guard, he's... expecting this?"

"Of course." She smiled. "And he isn't really my guard. It's all a ruse. We're actually lovers, he and I."

"And where will he take me?"

"I'll meet you two just outside the city gates in about an hour. From there we'll make our way into the woods, where you'll meet my tribe."

"Your... tribe?"

She nodded. "I'm part of a tribe of wanderers who move from city to city, collecting those in search of freedom," she told me, a small smile forming on her lips. "We're an odd lot. Our leader, Sahir, is a magician. A real one, too, not one of those phony sleight-of-hand tricksters."

I raised an eyebrow. "A real one?" I recalled seeing the occasional sleight-of-hand magician as a child, but was unaware there was any other kind.

"Indeed." She grinned. "Don't worry, I'm certain you'll like him. Now off you go to Dorren. Remember, keep your head high. You're not a slave anymore, you're a lady."

I nodded and looked in the mirror again, adjusting my clothing to hide any areas where I noticed visible tattoos on Dhara. Then I took a deep breath, glanced at her once more, and made my way out of the room.

Dorren was waiting for me outside, as Dhara had promised, his eyes betraying no sign of surprise as he looked me over. "Are you ready, my lady?" he asked in a smooth, deep voice.

I nodded, not trusting my own voice, and he offered me a gloved hand. I took it, and without anyone giving us a second glance, we made our way down the walkway and out of the temple that had been both prison and home for the last twelve years of my life, and into the city beyond.

***

About an hour later I sat on a fallen log just outside the walls of the city, breathing in the cool evening air and the scent of dry summer grass. The ride through the city had been thrilling, my eyes wide as I took in the tall buildings and intricate stonework, the vendors closing up their shop stalls and the families scurrying home for the evening. This city wasn't my home, and it didn't appear to be too different from the first time I came through it half a lifetime ago. But I was a scared, naive little girl back then who wasn't particularly interested in the details of the city that she'd be enslaved in. Now, though, I drank them in with curious eyes.

A gust of wind tugged at the scarf on my head, and I laughed nervously. Beside me, Dorren grinned. "You can take that off now if you want."

I shook my head. "I'd rather stay in this until we're far from the city."

"Suit yourself," he responded, then stood and walked over to his horse, ran his hands through the tawny mane. The horse snorted.

"Still wearing all that frouffy finery, are we?"

The voice caused me to whirl around, and I found myself staring into Dhara's smiling face, her slender, form clad in my short, sheer dress.

"I..." I looked down at the gown and shook my head. "I... have nothing else to wear." I threw her an apologetic glance, pointing to her own garment. "I'm sorry you have to wear that... thing."

She laughed again. "This thing is closer to my usual clothes than what you're wearing," she told me. "We'll find both of us some proper clothes once we get back to camp. Come on, let's get moving."

We led the horses down the dirt road that snaked away from the city. The sun had slipped below the horizon, the sky above us was a dusky blue dotted with the first stars of the evening. Our walk was eerily quiet save for the plodding of the horse and the chirping of nearby crickets. My pulse quickened as I took in the silence, the open space. It was hard not to feel lonely and exposed out here.

After a time we reached the edge of the forest, the majority of the remaining light disappearing as the trees closed around us. Dorren lit a lantern, and I kept myself focused on the bobbing light as I stepped, and occasionally tripped, over the large, serpentine tree roots. Birds in the branches above let out eerie coos, and I was startled several times by intermittent scuttling noises close by. I was relieved when, after only a few minutes, I could hear music in the distance. Not long after that I spotted firelight dancing in a clearing not too far ahead of us, beckoning us.

My eyes widened as we entered the clearing. The small patch of bare land was occupied by about a dozen wagons arranged in a lopsided circle, their colourful exteriors illuminated by the torches interspersed among them. Several horses grazed near the wagons, oblivious to our arrival. In the centre of the circle a large bonfire crackled, its flames leaping and hissing. There were perhaps about twenty people gathered around the fire, most of them adults, all of them silent, focused on a bearded old man who was playing a tune on the mandolin. The music was sweet and earthy, like nothing I'd heard in many years, and I found a lump rising in my throat as I listened.

There were questioning glances and cursory nods as we approached the fire, but no one spoke. Dorren took the horse to where the others were grazing, and Dhara settled on a log and patted the wood next to her. I began to lower myself down, then realized that I had no idea how to sit in my current attire. I leaned forward and whispered my predicament to her, she giggled and told me to stand for the moment.

The song finished soon after and several pairs of curious eyes settled on us. Dhara stood again and smiled at her friends while gesturing to me. "This is Rosette," she informed them. "I took her from the temple worship chambers today. She's quite lovely."

There were smiles and murmurs of welcome from all assembled, and then a dark haired man spoke up. "Perhaps you should find our new friend some more comfortable clothes, Dhara."

Dhara chuckled. "I was just thinking that." She turned to me. "Come to my wagon, I'll find something for you."

The inside of Dhara's wagon was as colourful as the outside. Several lamps of varying shapes hung here and there, displaying cheery wallpaper and brightly patterned seats that lined the walls, dark wooden furniture with golden designs inlaid into the wood, and a muticoloured quilt draped over a large bed that took up the rear part of the room. Dhara opened a cupboard and pulled out two brightly coloured dresses, handed one to me. The material of this dress was much like my old one, I noticed, but it was longer and covered more, and there were small flowers embroidered, seemingly at random, into the sheer fabric. "Does this wagon belong to just you?" I asked as I pulled on the dress.

"My sister and I live here," she answered. "I wish we had another bed in here for you, but this is one of the smaller wagons. You needn't worry, though. Sahir has a small guest wagon tethered to his own, and you'll be welcome to sleep there tonight. We'll find a permanent place for you in time- if you stay with us, that is."

"Now which one is Sahir?" I asked. "Is he the old man who was playing the song when we arrived?"

Dhara laughed. "Certainly not. He's not old at all, only a year or two older than me. He was the one who suggested I get you some better clothes. He's very friendly, and before the night is out I can guarantee he will have sat down next to you and asked you all about your life."

I frowned, not sure whether I wanted to be quizzed about my life. "If he's so young, how is he the leader of this group?"

"He started it," Dhara explained. "He was a enslaved once himself, and after he broke free he began collecting people, those who were slaves seeking freedom or simply those who were unhappy with life in the cities. Now we travel here and there, some seeking temporary work, others making and selling their wares. It's a lovely life- at least, I think so." She smiled at me as I finished buttoning up my dress. "Ready to go back outside?"