1 01

"Sister Kericki!" Cries of the young girls make me turn from my leather bond book.

Three slave girls come running my way. They may be about sixteen or eighteen of age but look like panicked children with their round faces and short stature. I have always thought that they are rather cute. All wearing grey robe with a thick belt of Antoro's worker class. Long black hair tied in bun.

"Help us, sister Kericki. Mistress is so cruel!" Memi burst into dramatic tears.

"Don't be so upset, Memi," I say while wiping her face with my sleeve. "Our Mistress's job is to be cruel."

"But this time she's gone really far!" Rei says.

"Yes, she has ordered us to go to the military grounds," Sono says.

"Why?" I ask.

"She wants to spend the day in a lodge there. We have to prepare the place ourselves. But." Sono shudders. "It's so dangerous! We are just girls and there will be countless soldiers and guards around. We will be harassed for sure. What if someone does something?"

"Well," I say, tapping my face with a finger. "Mistress is the only daughter of the general. So she can go there as she pleases."

The problem is, all the Mistress's slaves are young girls. Given the huge population of slaves in Antoro, we barely have any right to justice. If they step out of the safety of the women's quarters, markets to an extent, they easily fall prey to lustful men.

"You are right," I say. "Leave this to me. Get some snacks and cushions and deliver it on the entrance. I will go and prepare the lodging."

"By yourself? Will you be alright?" They blink in their tears.

I smile broadly. "Ofcourse, don't worry."

Blushing with sudden emotion, they all jump to hug me at once. "You are the best, sis!"

After setting my book in the bag, buttoning up the woollen coat and throwing a pale triangular scarf over the head, I proceed to head outside.

Wherever I go, big and small trees with red, yellow, pink, purple and green shades are planted artfully the gardens. Beautiful buildings with curved roofs. Antoro is a city of business and decorum.

Men are busy training or running their horses around for errands. Or just lounging around across the large grounds. Three years ago, the city's king began to expand its rule in west and south. In no time it defeated and enslaved countless tribes. People became great asset in strengthening military and growing business.

I am learning to read and this scholar from a faraway city called Kitaba has written recent history in easy language. It's also amusing what was a life and death situation to us, is written so factually in her book.

There it is, I stop before a small two-story building, the perfect lodging place with a great view of young soldiers training and sweating in distance.

Just what Mistress wants.

It is also in a terrible state. The sliding doors creak loudly when I open them and a particular stench attacks my nose. The inside room looks like it has not been cleaned for months.

I have to maintain this by myself before the Mistress comes by afternoon bell.

Rolling my sleeves up, I jump into it.

First I march off to the kitchen hall and quarrel with the head chef to arrange something decent for the general's daughter and her entourage. Then I get to the back-breaking task of the cleaning, determined to exterminate the source of the foul smell. Mistress will not tolerate a bland room so I had brought a light carpet and tapestry for this. Then I remember that the girls will be waiting at the gate.

My feet stop at the top of the stairs. The building is lighted by sun for now and something crawls in the shadows down there. I wait, all senses up, and look. There is something, like a giant insect snaking through the wall. A sharp motion of my arm and it disappears. I resume down in the shadow.

Hope it does not come back.

Voices raise up among the soldiers while I make my way through the ground border. I spot some court poets among them and smile.

So it happens again.

These soldiers are young slaves from the western mountains. Skilled fighters and hunters recruited in the army. They are considered very attractive by the Antoro men. Atleast to the poets. The soldiers in woollen coats and slim waist contrast the bulky men in vibrant colourful stately robes.

Since the poets cannot write to young women who live separately, they become the favourite muse for their lyrical style poems. Let me give a few examples:

"Boy! Your walk is so graceful.

Your each step ravishes my heart.

Where have you taken such beauty from?"

And:

"Boy, we never know where you are,

Unless we send for you.

Throw aside that sword and give me company."

And:

"Such sweetness in speech.

My beloved has oval face with piercing eyes.

Body like roses yet furious like lions."

"Shut Up." One of them erupts and raises a spear, he is the one the poets are bothering most. Other soldiers who have been trying to shoo them away, draw back.

I'm not going to lie, he really is beautiful. His hair has shades of honey that reach down his neck. Tied by a bandana but dishevelled after vigorous training. His icy blue eyes and flushed lips in a vicious frown, he looks ready to kill someone. Even then the old men look happy.

"How many times have I told you to not come near me?" He is about to knock one down before I grip his arm. Everyone blinks, surprised by my appearance.

"Those are some splendid poems, sirs." I give a broad smile. "Next time, you can give them to me and I will sing them to Teus later."

"You," Teus says, face angry with worry this time. "What are you doing here?"

"Following orders of Mistress," I say. "Excuse me, some people are waiting for me at the gate."

He grabs my wrist and walks forward. "I'm coming too." Then he turns back and barks an order. "Resume your practise and tell the general if they stay." The poets scamper away. The general plays as their guardian in scaring unwanted people off his young soldiers.

"Now tell me why you are here."

I explain him the situation but his he only frowns more. "What were you thinking coming here and doing this by yourself? And why didn't you tell me?"

The impact of his eyes looking into mine sends a blush across my face.

"Relax, many of our tribal brothers are here," I say, smiling assuringly. "And the girls are fragile and helpless before this gruff world. Their hearts are soft and fluttery like a bird. Violate them in any way and they become like a cracked pottery. That's why I want to protect them as much as I can."

"You are twenty two. Not much older than them," he says.

I laugh in response.

This part of him, that worries about me all the time, really spoils me. Teus is the son of the eldest uncle. While we share the angular faces with pale eyes. Mine are narrower and lips thinner. Then again, there is no one matching his beauty in the whole Antoro.

Teus stops and his hand breaks away from mine to reach for the lock of hair escaping the scarf. Rosegold in colour, rough in texture. He pushes them back gently.

"They are really damaged," he comments.

They are. I have never cut my hair and keep them braided. But ever since our enslavement, they have fallen a lot and grown back. Maybe because of the load of work I have taken. Or the smoke from factories where the worker class and slaves reside.

"I promise I will get us out of this hell hole," he murmurs as his forehead touches mine. Now I am really red. "General has promised to raise my rank. I will not stop until I have reached the position of captain. We will buy our freedom and a land far away in the outskirts."

His face pulls away and we look at each other. "Until then, promise you will tell me if someone troubles you."

He is pushing himself too. We both are. For our future.

"Sister Kericki!" Memi, Rei and Sono wave from outside the door.

The arrival of Mistress in the building stirs life in the upper room. She seems to be in good spirit today. For everyday her presence means a thunderstorm, right now she is a tornado.

"Useless, all of you!" She shouts, walking to the centre of the room. The slave girls scatter about. "Stop roaming like lost cows and do something to make this room bearable.

"You, are you making sure we all suffocate? Open that window.

"Why is the cot set away from the window? I am not here to watch your stupid faces. Move it.

"Where is the food on this table? Cricket!"

"Kericki, Mistress," I correct with a smile and place down her favourites. First the plate of spicy fried rolls made of cheese, meat and bread. A bowl of candy apples. And finally a small creamy milk cake flavoured in chocolate, a delicacy Antoro's high classes are obsessed with. The mouth-watering sight appeases the Mistress to some level. "Lunch will be served according to the military schedule."

"Tell them they are not feeding foot-soldiers here. If they want to attract a beautiful loving wife, they need to know what to feed her."

"I'm sure they'll prosper from your critic," I say.

"And you girls," she says, setting down on the cushions with the snack table on one side and large window on the other. "Don't think I did not notice you cowering before men. How are you going to get the right husband who will serve you for life? Now I need to make sure you become strong as well as useful. So much work needs to be done."

She sighs dramatically.

Well, despite herself, Mistress is quite a magnetic woman. She is maybe two-three years older than me and taller than other girls as well. Adorned in extravagant patterned robes. Her black hair is short at a small portion of her forehead and the rest is held loosely by a jewelled clutch. Even sitting with one knee arched up in air and munching on the snacks, she is as radiant as moon.

A moon that likes to yell a lot.

"Well, girls, not today," Mistress chirps. "Today, I have decided to take in a consort for myself."

"What, Mistress? A consort!" Memi bursts in surprise beside me.

"Among the soldiers?" I say, amused.

"But they are too lowly for you," another girl says.

"Shut up," Mistress turns back and snaps. "My choice is not as degraded as your assumptions. This man has repeatedly caught my eyes during his visits to father. He shines like crystal in a cave full of dirt. His elegance, beauty and noble manners are so rare, even actual nobles lack greatly."

"Eh? Mistress, I want to see who has earned such a praise from you." I move forward. Others follow giddily.

"That one." She points to a man leading practise of a slave soldier group.

We watch outside the window in silence.

"Mistress," I say

"Hm?" She says.

"That's my husband."

"What?"