Mediha
Her consciousness returned, and she knew that someone had pulled her out of the water. She could still hear the sounds of a scuffle and she opened her eyes and looked in its direction.
It was a Hellenic boy dressed in commoner’s dirty linen clothes, and he was soaked from head to toe. He was wrestling the assassin the best he could, but the assassin was gaining. The boy’s back was arched back, while the assassin was pushing him back against his shoulders and his hips simultaneously, in an attempt to break his spine through the application of sheer strength. The boy was well aware of his predicament, and was no warrior. He wore his terror on his face, as rivulets of sweat threaded down his cheeks.
The princess leaped up, in all her naked glory, and ran behind the assassin, who tried whirling while maintaining her grip on the boy. The princess used both her hands’ index fingers and stabbed the eyes of the assassin in one sharp, very improbable jab. The assassin reeled, and dropped her hold on the boy, and fell back screaming in a strange tongue. She turned and ran into the dark corridor that led to the secret passages of the palace.
There was no point in giving her pursuit personally. The princess knew she’d have to call her guards. The princess whirled around from the direction of the assassin’s flight, and faced the boy, who had fallen to his knees, and was panting. He flashed her a grateful look. She nodded. He had saved her life, so he owed her nothing. Then he looked down at her body, and she glared at him, willing him to look away, while she covered her breasts with one hand and her nether region with another, while looking for her clothes. He pretended to look away.
The Hellene worked at the court. Princess Mediha knew him because of the palace gossip about a boy outsmarting the Sultana’s council. Now he had saved her life.
She didn’t fancy the boy’s apparent fascination with her, but she was well bred and was certainly no ingrate. She knew that she was bonded to this boy, and as someone who had saved his life, and who had had her life saved by him. When someone saves your life, they become akin to family. It was the ancient law that no man or woman had written but everybody followed. Water dripped off both their persons, as they had shared something that makes humans far more intimate than making love. They had been in the presence of near certain death together, and that from the same foe.
The boy’s presence in her quarters had been unexplained, but she allowed him to go unchallenged. He told her he had been lost in the labyrinth that the shadows of the palace housed, and she pretended he was telling her the truth. The sly and lusty look in his eyes bothered her, but he seemed a harmless boy. She knew that most adolescent boys thought with their penis.
She had screamed for the palace guards, and her private retinue of female warriors streamed into her chambers, each giving the Hellene a look of surprise and almost assaulting him before the princess stopped them and explained what had happened.
The warriors fanned out into the dark, internecine depths of the palace labyrinths, hoping to cut the throat of the assassin before the hour was up. A few stayed behind, staying close to the princess, and eyeing the boy as though his presence offended them.
Mohal
General Mohal looked very worried. After his secret meeting, he returned to his quarters and slept for several hours. He didn’t even have the stomach for his usual sexual games. He was told by someone that one of his young slave girls had died. Somehow he didn’t remember that, but it didn’t matter. Slaves died every day; such was their lot.
All he could picture in his mind’s eye was the gigantic abyss that he had been facing, and the sheer monstrous power of the entity that he had sought the aid of. He was very worried. The presence of this entity was something else, and there was absolutely no question of denying this entity anything.
The entity’s demand was terrifying. The general knew that denying it wasn’t an option. If he acceded to it, however, he wasn’t sure that he would retain any shred of himself. The entity may consume him as part of the process.
He slapped the slave girl who had lived through his nocturnal sadism, venting his frustration. He was surprised. She looked a lot more resilient today, and seemed to have healed more than humanly possible. He grinned to himself. He was surprised for a second. He thought he saw the girl smiling. She wasn’t now. She was looking down.
Imi
She dreamed of him, night and day. The name Rustum was on her lips at all times. Her mother noticed that her sparring had deteriorated, and she received too many skin wounds as sharp reminders to be alert and attentive. She spent more time staring into ponds and taking solitary walks than she ever had, and this was terribly out of character for someone who was as socially active as her.
Princess Lubna was awaiting word from the Persian satrap. She wondered whether she should tell her mother what she was doing, but decided against it. Their relationship with the Persian kingdom wasn’t specially warm, and she hoped that her initiative and her love would bring the two kingdoms together. Her mother would receive a gift of allies, because her daughter employed the power of love.
Younos
Every woman who crossed his path thought he was a boy. He was in his twenties, but his accursed baby face undid him every time. Younos cursed silently, while enjoying the princess’s hospitality.
It was difficult. The princess’s beautiful form was just a few feet away from him. She had personally supervised his afternoon snack, and checked on him, and she asked him to come back when he desired. She also told him that he was family now, because of his action. It was an ancient law of the Arabs.
Younos loved it. He planned to come back to ogle to princess, of course. He also knew that he could learn so much more about palace politics through sly inquiries from someone as powerful as her. He was beginning to like his life. The Sultana trusted him, and now her daughter trusted him. He hadn’t been trusted a whole lot in his life before, so it made him feel astonishingly light on the inside.
Her female warriors turned him on even more. One of them looked Hellenic, and he tried stealing glances at her dark blonde locks and the bronze armored bust that covered her breasts. She glowered at him, catching him at the precise moment he stared at her bust.
The boy turned red in the face, and turned his head away. He turned to face the princess, and excused himself, because he had to go and meet the Sultana on urgent business. He heard a soft chuckle behind him as he left.
Sultana
They went over the sisters’ messages with the Hellenic boy again. He had nothing to add that the palace scribes had not sieved from the messages. This boy had his wits about him, however, and the Sultana was hoping that he would think of something she hadn’t.
Her frustration for so many years had been that finding a good adviser was close to impossible. Her nonagenarians were wise, but they no longer thought well on their toes, and completely alien situations challenged them in ways that they were not prepared for. A boy such as this one was a godsend.
The messages were clear. There was something within their own kingdom that the sisters were mortally afraid of. Something of enormous power. That something was hidden in the area between the woods that were shaped like a star and a Wadi that was nearby.