ONE : The Slave of Izan
Before the slaver had taken her from Izan and brought her to Xyanwer she had known it as the City of Nightmares. It was the last of the Nine Cities -- or the first, for it was said to have been built so long ago none knew who built it -- and more ships sailed to it than returned from it.
Casiel had seen it first by night, when she and two of her fellow slaves had been brought up from the caged holds onto the deck of the slaver's ship. Beyond the docks the oddly irregular white stonework of the city shimmered in the strange lights that emanated from the narrow windows of three high towers that rose far above the rest of the buildings.
Even now she could not say for sure what colour those lights were, for they were all colours and none, a shifting un-light that seemed to drain the vitality from anything it touched. Casiel had looked to the others and in that light their soft, golden tanned skin looked more like inanimate wax than living flesh.
They did not stay on the deck for long, for even the slaver's crew -- hard, cruel men of Jasjan and Zal -- did not like to walk in that light too long. They took the slaves inside, to a well furnished cabin where the slaver himself drank and diced and jested with a young woman who wore purple silk and black leather.
Darnizhy.
Darnizhy was a little taller than Casiel, and when she had stood up the square heels of her long leather boots had added further to her height. Her hair was short and dark, cut in tight at the sides, and this combined with her slender, slim-hipped figure to give her an almost boyish look, though her soft voice and easy movements were undeniably those of a woman, and a woman of confidence and power at that.
That night she had worn a high collared shirt of rich purple silk and tight fitting black leather trousers tucked into her long black leather boots. Her long black coat was flung casually across the back of the chair in which she had been sitting when Casiel and the others were brought into the cabin, and from which she rose to walk over to the three slave girls, who stood straight, with their hands behind their backs and their gaze lowered, as was expected.
Caasiel had been born a slave, and was accustomed to being inspected, though now that she had turned eighteen those inspections had become more far more probing and often very uncomfortable for her.
This had been different. Darnizhy's touch had been firm, certainly, and she inspected the three girls as fully as any other potential buyer -- as she thought of her then -- might do so. Only Casiel had found her body responding to this touch as it had done for no other, and when Darnizhy placed her fingertips under her chin and tilted her head up to look at her directly she found herself wishing that this woman would be the one to buy her.
Her features were not soft and rounded like those of the Izani girls. They were striking, clearly defined, with high cheekbones and eyes that were almost golden. Casiel felt lost in those eyes, and her cheeks flushed and she looked down again, only then noticing the tracery of thin black tatooing that was visible above the collar of Darnizhy's silk shirt.
A quick glance at her fellow slaves, as they were in turn inspected, made it quite clear that all three shared the same response to this woman.
Darnizhy had turned back to the slaver, who had been watching them in silence, and smiled. "I accept your stakes, Sador, " she had said and sat down again, picking up the dice from the table where they lay amidst wine cups, platters of food and some papers.
The slaver had chuckled. "You're confident tonight, Darnizhy. How do I know you won't cheat me?"
Darnizhy shrugged. "Your men can stay and watch me, if you wish. Just tell them to keep their hands off of my winnings."
That was the other thing that Casiel remembered most clearly. This young woman -- perhaps only five or six years older than herself -- had been entirely at her ease. She wore no sword or dagger and was alone among men whom Casiel knew to be not only slavers but pirates, rapers and murderers, but she showed no fear.
Indeed, from watching the wary looks they gave her, and listening to the deferential manner in which they spoke to her, Casiel had soon realised that it was the slavers who were afraid of Darnizhy.
= = =
That had been three seasons ago. Darnizhy had won Casiel and the two other slaves in the game that night, and now Casiel lay between black silk sheets in the large bed where she had spent so many of the nights that followed.
She had been awakened by a dream, though the memory of it was already fading from her waking mind. She rolled over and saw that she was alone. Her mistress had been out when she had gone to sleep, and at first Casiel was unsure if she had yet returned.
The room in which she lay was part of Darnizhy's chambers, which occupied the uppermost floor of one of Xyanwer's strange, unwelcoming buildings. The ceilings were high, the doorways and arches oddly angled, and the rooms laid out according to some plan that followed no purpose but its own. It was easy, in this place, to believe the old stories that hinted that the city had been built for beings quite unlike those who now dwelled in it.
Looking around Casiel saw that three lamps had been lit, though they lit the room only dimly and threw out shadows that did not always appear to be follow the architecture of the room. In their light she saw the slender figure of her mistress, standing on the balcony beyond, looking out across the docks as she often did.
Casiel slipped out of the bed and walked quietly across the room toward the balcony. She was naked other than for a tight fitting harness of soft black leather straps and the leather collar that was locked around her neck. Darnizhy had placed the collar on her that first night, and Casiel would never want it to be removed.
The stone floor of the room was cold against her bare feet and so she walked, where possible, on the rugs and carpets that lay over much of the floor. It was a warm night, without wind, and she did not bother to pick up a robe to cover herself. Besides, she rather hoped that her mistress would be in the mood to play.
Though she walked quietly she saw Darnizhy tilt her head slightly as she stepped out onto the balcony. She did not look round, but kept her gaze on the docks below and the waters beyond. There was a newly opened bottle of wine on a small table near to her, and a half filled cup rested on the stone balustrade she leaned on.
"Go back to sleep, Casiel." Her voice was soft and controlled, as always. She was always in control. Casiel loved that.
"Mistress?"
Darnizhy did not reply. Casiel walked up behind her and leaned into her back. The soft silk of her mistress's midnight blue silk shirt was cool against her bare breasts, but the strong, slender body beneath it was warm. Casiel rested her head on Darnizhy's shoulder, her hands moving round to play idly with the silver studded belt of her black leather trousers.
"What are you looking at?"
"A ship, at anchor, beyond the harbour." Darnizhy lifted her wine cup to her lips and drank. "They won't come into dock until dawn."
Casiel nodded. Ships did not dock in Xyanwer at night, not under the strange lights of the high towers. She raised her head from her mistress's shoulder -- a little reluctantly, because it was so comfortable there -- and looked out.
The balcony of Darnizhy's chambers afforded an excellent view of the docks and the waters beyond. The high towers could not be seen, being behind them in the city proper, but the buildings that were visible still shimmered in the un-light, though it did not touch the balcony itself. Indeed there was no part of Darnizhy's chambers that did fall directly under that light, and Casiel had come to believe that this was why she had taken them.
She did not question that. She knew much more of Xyanwer now. She knew that the three high towers were the dwellings of Those Who Reign, and of Them she knew little more than that, nor did she want to.
She knew also that Darnizhy was an agent, who acted as an intermediary between the merchants and others who came to Xyanwer and the Houses, and that her authority came from Them, and was thus absolute within the city.
Darnizhy rarely spoke of her business, and Casiel and the others had quickly learned not to ask too many questions.
