A Paladin's War Ch. 07

"It will have to be," Elhorn said curtly. "You are young enough that it might suit some of the more... Well, never mind about that now." She clapped her hands sharply and the two girls from earlier appeared at her sides. "Bathe her!" She demanded. "When she is clean, bring her back here for fitting."

At that, Sara was ushered from the room - still naked - and taken down a wide hallway lined with paintings and tapestries of beautiful women, many of them unclothed or near to it. A few doors down the girls stopped and brought her into a lavish bathing room with several large, copper tubs big enough for four women. Two more serving girls were pouring steaming buckets of water into one of the tubs as she entered, though these girls were as bare as she. They looked over and waved her forward as the girls who had brought her disappeared the way they'd come.

Wordlessly, Sara moved toward the tub and stepped in, a part of her glad to be in a bath after so long without. The girls washed her efficiently, taking care to clean her everywhere, including her most intimate areas. She let them do what they had to do without comment. The less she said, the better. She wanted to ask the girls how they'd come to work for Lady Elhorn, but she was afraid she already knew the answer. They were pretty enough, though Sara noticed the slightest of differences as she studied them.

One was slim, with dark, curly hair damp from the steam. She would have been stunning except for her nose being just on the wrong side of bold. The other was fair-haired and voluptuous - quite appealing, really - only shy of beautiful for one eye that did not seem to work as well as the other, detracting from her other features.

Sara wanted to shake her head in disgust, both at herself for noticing - why should the shape of a nose, or a lazy eye matter? - and for the fact that these girls were stuck here for things out of their control, things they were born with. Perhaps it was a blessing they were working here and not for one of the lords.

She was all too happy to leave the bath when they'd finished with her. Against her better judgement, she shot the girls a sympathetic look as they towelled her dry and applied perfumes to her skin, dabbing the heady stuff on with their fingertips before dressing her in a light gown and some velvet slippers for the walk back to Lady Elhorn. They either did not notice her look, or ignored it.

Back under the scrutiny of Lady Elhorn, Sara was stuffed into several different dresses and gowns, all of them silk and designed to show off her feminine features to full effect. Finally, Elhorn settled on a ruby gown with a narrow, plunging neckline that showed the insides of her breasts. There was a slit up the left side, all the way to her hip that opened when she moved to show her entire leg.

Her hair was combed out and pinned so it fell in waves to her shoulders, framing her face in a way that enhanced her cheekbones. Lady Elhorn muttered to herself all the while, clicking her tongue occasionally when one of the girls got something wrong, sometimes slapping a hand out of the way so she could do it herself.

When the Lady was happy, Sara was turned to the mirror. Despite herself, she nearly smiled. She looked for all the world like a real lady, glamorous and poised, beautiful and wealthy. On the streets, to take her mind off the cold and the hunger, she had sometimes fantasised about what it would be like to marry a nobleman and have money and fine dresses and attend fancy parties in palaces and manors.

She smoothed the dress over her hips, noting how well it fit, how it clung to her curves as if cut for her personally. "It is very beautiful, my Lady," she answered politely when Elhorn asked her what she thought.

"Yes," Elhorn said briskly. "It will do. I would normally bring out the paints and powders at this point, but you, my dear, are the first human girl I've had that will not need them. In fact, they would probably work against you, strangely enough. I've not seen your like before, dear. You are very special. I would almost think you were part Elf, except for your ears and eyes."

Sara noted the gleam of avarice in Elhorn's own eyes. No doubt the lady stood to make no small amount of coin out of this.

"The next viewing is not until next week," Elhorn continued. "But I will be calling a special showing for you, I think." She clapped her hands sharply and suddenly the gown was coming off to be replaced by the earlier one from after the bath. "Your quarters for tonight are prepared, child. I suggest you rest well, for tomorrow eve you will be shown to the wealthiest men in Cartuga."

She was promptly shown to her rooms - somewhat modest compared to the opulence of the rest of Elhorn's manor - yet more than comfortable enough with a big bed against one wall, a small round table and two padded chairs in a corner, and a plush velvet armchair facing one of the tall, arched windows that looked over the expansive grounds.

Twilight had come and gone since she'd arrived at the manor, and someone had come in to light the mirrored lamps in the corners of the room. Stomach growling - her last meal had been at Barnett's tavern this morning - she sat on the bed, folding her legs beneath her and fanning her skirts out. Closing her eyes, she deepened her breathing and let her thoughts drift.

Thinking about Barnett made her wish she'd asked one of the serving girls about his sister, Lennise, but it would have been fruitless. Barnett said she was taken off the street, so it was unlikely Lennise had even come through Elhorn's manor, if Elhorn was being truthful about gathering willing girls only.

I will do what I can for you, Barnett. She promised silently. He was a good man, and she would help if she could. Her vala was there, deep in the recesses of her being, wanting to fill her, flood her with power and awareness, yet she ignored it.

This would be a perfect time to visit amathani, if she knew how, but Amina had not disclosed that knowledge to her yet. Thinking of the Priestess brought a pang of guilt; she did feel badly for abandoning her duties, but the pull inside her had been impossible to ignore, or even delay. She had been brought here for a reason, a purpose, and she had to see it done. How she knew this, she could not explain, but it was as true as she was sitting here. Whatever happened with Amina would happen, and there wasn't much she could do about it now, in any case.

A serving girl brought her supper; a cloth-covered silver tray holding some sliced beef, carrot and potato and a small bread roll as well as a cup of milk and a small pitcher of water. She wolfed it down greedily as soon as the door closed behind the girl, not caring about etiquette now that she was alone. It wasn't enough to fill her - she could eat as much as three big men when she wanted - but it was better than nothing.

Meal finished, she returned to the bed and resumed her drifting, letting her thoughts slide by like a river, not trying to hold them but letting them float on as they wished. It was one of the meditation techniques taught to her by Amina, a way to centre herself during times of uncertainty.

Mikel's face popped into her head. She thought of him sometimes, and wondered if he'd found his way to safety. Had she made the right choice, with him? It couldn't be called a choice, really; the act of awakening his vala had been channelled through her rather than performed by her, the same as with Ayla. He was a handsome man, Mikel, with nice eyes and a fine body. She brushed his image aside before her thoughts turned carnal.

It was while she was deep in her meditation that she felt it, a dark, elusive presence that made her feel as if she'd touched something foul that soiled her skin. No sooner had she felt it than it slipped away, out of sight but still lingering just out of reach, as if watching her from some deep shadow.

Brow creased lightly, she focused on it. What are you? She almost thought she could hear cold, malicious laughter in her thoughts. It was tempting to use her vala, but she refrained. After a time, she gave up, unable to discern anything more than that she could feel a presence. It wasn't surprising, in a town like this.

Meditation became real sleep as soon as she allowed it, though she remained sitting in case she needed to move with little warning. Her dreams were a jumble, most of them unpleasant, except for the one where Amina welcomed her back to the Temple with open arms, forgiving her transgressions.

The night passed, and most of the next day she was left alone in the room, until late afternoon when she was collected by the serving girls and taken once again to the bath and then the fitting room, where the red gown was installed upon her under the watchful eye of Lady Elhorn, today in a brilliant gown of yellow silk with pearls at her wrists and throat.

Heeled sandals were put on her feet, the silk straps snaking up and around her calves. She'd never worn their like before, but it only took her a few minutes to work out how to walk in them without tipping over or rolling an ankle. It was less difficult than many of the balancing exercises she'd endured under Amina's training. Her hair was done next in the same fashion as yesterday.

No sooner was her preparation complete than Lady Elhorn was hustling her back down the hall. "Remain in your room until you are summoned," she instructed. "Someone will come along shortly."

Sara obeyed silently, entering her room and waiting until the door opened to admit a young woman in one of the sheer white gowns that Sara suspected all servants wore, here. Wordlessly, the girl beckoned her to follow. Sara complied, and the girl led her through the manor, down lushly carpeted hallways and through elegantly decorated rooms. There were people in the manor, well-dressed men and women in their best evening wear.

Everyone she saw apart from the serving girls wore masks that hid their eyes, some decorated with beaks and feathers to resemble birds, others with a wolf or bear's snout and ears. The men seemed to favour the latter. One room she passed was five or six times as big as the one she'd been assigned, and held no fewer than six beds. What that room could be for, she could only imagine. Whatever its purpose, it was empty, now.

The girl led her down the wide, curving stairs that led to the manor's entrance in a wide foyer with a brilliant crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling. People were gathered there as if they'd just arrived, taking silver cups from trays offered by a small army of serving girls.

Clusters of masked men in short black coats stood conversing around the foyer, flanked by an array of women in as many different garments as there were women. Some dressed modestly, while some wore no more than a Beringardian tavern dancer, and as many variations in between. Mostly, they were dressed to titillate the eye in some way, whether subtle or explicit. Something in the way they held themselves marked them as supplicant to the men, standing quietly, heads down and hands folded at their waists. Sara spotted the reverse, too; finely dressed women with a small collection of men in tow, though not as many as their male counterparts.

The gentle hum of quiet conversation lulled somewhat as she descended the stairs. It took her a moment to realise it was because of her. Almost every eye in the room found and remained on her until the serving girl led her through a tall archway, deeper into the manor's ground floor. If she was right, the people in the foyer were the guild masters with their slaves.

More rooms were passed through, reminding Sara just how big this manor was - almost a palace, really - the rooms down here more dimly lit than upstairs, though no less lavishly furnished. In one long passage, she got the sense she was being watched and glanced back over her shoulder to see a cloaked figure just rounding a corner, disappearing from sight.

Determinedly, she stuffed down a sudden burst of nerves and steadied her breathing. Had it just been her imagination that she'd heard that laughter again? Before she could decide, she passed through yet another archway into a long dining room split by a highly polished table and flanked with a dozen chairs on a side. At one end of the table some men were gathered around an Orc woman who was bent across its surface, her clinging silk gown bunched up around her coppery hips. One man was thrusting into her roughly, while the others watched with interest, perhaps waiting their turn.

Sara felt a flash of anger as she averted her eyes; there had been no pleasure on the Orc's face, only resignation. A couple of the men were now eyeing Sara with the same interest as they had the Orc. They said nothing, however, as the girl led her around the other end of the table and out the archway opposite the one they'd entered.

Finally, the journey ended when the girl stopped before a series of small doors in a hallway. She pulled one open and led Sara inside. Sara frowned at the small, unfurnished room with a set of stairs at the other end and no other exit. The girl nodded to the stairs, indicating Sara should go up. When she did, she guessed the purpose of the landing quickly enough. The stairs let out onto a balcony that overlooked the rear grounds of the manor, and in particular the large, stone-paved courtyard below bordered by square hedges and dotted by elaborate fountains and long, shallow pools where nude serving girls swam and frolicked.

There were people down there, in much the same attire as she'd seen elsewhere in the manor, all in masks. The balcony was positioned so whomever stood here would be in easy view of anyone in the courtyard. Heads turned up to regard her from time to time, some men pointing her out to others as they noticed her. She did her best to look obedient and willing, but she hated their eyes on her.

She knew before coming to the manor that she wasn't going to like this place, but it was getting harder to keep her anger under control as she surveyed the courtyard and the people in it. Near one of the pools a man stood holding a girl close to his body by her hips, her back to his chest while another man fondled her breasts as if testing their quality.

Near one of the hedges on the right, two men stood side-by-side chatting while two women knelt before them, their heads bobbing as they serviced the men, who acted as if this were merely a matter of course. Elsewhere in the courtyard, similar displays were happening, to varying degrees.

Even with her vala suppressed, Sara would have sensed pleasure emanating from the women had they been enjoying themselves. For the most part, they were not.

With nothing else to do, she kept watching, filing away every detail she could glean about Lady Elhorn's guests, from the way they walked and talked, to their size, complexion, clothing and hair. The masks meant there was some need for anonymity, but Sara was sure most of these men knew one another.

Right at the back of the courtyard, a cloaked figure stood - large enough to be a big man - his hood pulled up despite the warm night. Around him was a group of five women, all dressed identically, which was to say naked except for a thin, dark collar around their throats. The cloaked man and the collared women stayed away from the other guests, or perhaps the other guests stayed away from them. A dark aura seemed to surround them, to Sara's eyes, a concentration of shadows beyond what the night would naturally provide.

If this man was not the reason she'd been brought here, she would run naked to the Forgotten Coast. Her skin crawled as she watched him, and she could feel his eyes on her from inside the darkness of his cowl. The urge to take comfort in the power of the vala pulled at her, but she resisted.

More people filtered into the courtyard until it was packed, with little room to move. Most eyes were on her, up here on her balcony that effectively served as a cage. Not long after, Lady Elhorn appeared, standing almost directly beneath Sara. She was now in a gown of blood red with silver embroidery across the sleeves and down the bodice. The low hum of chatter quieted as she arrived.

"Welcome, all!" Elhorn announced. "I have called you here at short notice for a very special showing, one which I did not expect." She gestured up toward Sara with a heavily-ringed hand, but kept her eyes on her guests. "This young woman has submitted herself for sale. Of such glorious quality she is, I saw no point in waiting until next week to show her."

A ripple of curious murmurs ran through the crowd. Elhorn continued. "As you are all aware, willing assets are considerably more valuable than those taken otherwise. Add this fact to the sheer beauty this human girl bears, and you will gain an idea of the starting price."

The murmurs rippled again, some of them sounding disgruntled, especially from those with less slaves than others. If the number of slaves indicated wealth or position, then there was a hierarchy here like everywhere else. One man, a broad-shouldered, dark-faced fellow wearing an elegant black suit not unlike the fashion in Maralon, was standing in the near-centre of the courtyard and surrounded by a cluster of no fewer than a dozen women, all in silk gowns of fine - yet very revealing - cut. She couldn't see his face behind the wolf mask, but he radiated power.

"She has passed my inspections with flying colours," said Elhorn with confidence. "And she is no doubt the finest asset to ever cross my threshold.

"I shall start the bidding at five hundred marks." She announced. Silence settled as soon as she spoke. "Who will meet this price?"

Sara was shocked. Five hundred marks? That was enough money to buy a house in Maralon. A big one! Her earlier suspicions of status were confirmed when several men with lesser numbers of slaves wound their way from the crowd and out into the grounds, eliminating themselves from the auction. Some moved back into the manor.

Again, she felt a mixture of queasiness and anger. Women being sold at auction like cattle! She should pull the whole manor down on their heads!

"Six hundred!" called one man in a bear mask, raising his hand. He had ten women around him, all in clinging strips of black silk that only hid their most intimate parts.

Before Elhorn could speak again, another man called seven hundred. To Sara's surprise, a woman - accompanied by a mix of male and female slaves - called next, taking the bid to eight hundred.

Sara did her best to stop her eyes from bulging at the sum of money on offer as it grew. Nine hundred, a thousand, more. Her hands were gripping the wrought-iron railing. How far would this go? What possible value did these people see in paying so much for a slave, no matter how beautiful?

The bidding continued, Lady Elhorn occasionally speaking up when bids paused to keep things moving. At twenty-five hundred marks, however, it appeared a final price had been reached. The large, dark man looked around confidently, certain that no one would match his outrageous bid.

"If the price of twenty-five hundred marks will not be raised," Elhorn cried. "The human girl will go this man!" she gestured to the dark fellow with a hand. "Final call one!"

No response from the crowd. A few more groups shuffled away, leaving the courtyard about half full.

"Final call two!"

Again, silence.

"Final call thr-!"

"Three thousand!" a deep voice shouted from the back, at the border of the paving stones. Sara's eyes whipped that way to see the cloaked man moving forward, his women in tow. The crowd parted before him as people quickly jumped from his way, leaning back as if getting too close to him could be harmful.