Rachael and the Warlord Pt. 03

I don't ask Ramiro whether such rumours are true since I might inadvertently sabotage his work. However, I strongly suspect that one of his spies is a mute female slave that her new owner mistakenly believes cannot betray his shady dealings. I'm unsure how he communicates with Meghr, but his almost obsessive interest in Meghr's training when she was at Wadi Halaf begins to make sense.

Samvel's former place as a city alderman has been awarded to the head of another ruling family. While he is probably as corrupt as his peers, he doesn't seem inclined to meddle in the warlord's affairs. As I gain a better understanding of matters affecting the warlord's duties and responsibilities, I am able to satisfy the aldermen that Ramiro and I can be trusted to handle diplomacy with nearby rulers, and the external protection of our city. Even a visit from a deputation of Grey Monks passes without mishap.

I meet my cousin Zoe once or twice a month. She married the third son of a market trader. As a former slave, Zoe isn't considered suitable to marry into one of the wealthier families. Fortunately, wealth doesn't make a good husband, and regardless of whatever skills he possesses, Zoe has married a good man.

As for me, I have new challenges to face. My first child is due to be born in four months, and I have only just finished having the improvements to Wadi Halaf's facilities completed. Trade is still brisk at the caravanserai, even though the completion of the bridge repairs has reduced the demand for accommodation. The popularity of our evening entertainments mean that a few caravans stop an extra night to enjoy what we offer. That in turn means that merchants often trade more of their goods in our city, pleasing even the most begrudging of the city's businessmen.

Amina and I have successfully recreated the Halls of Valhalla on a smaller scale. Now that winter has passed, there's a steady flow of slaves being transported from distant lands. I get first look at those being transported in caravans stopping at Wadi Halaf, and I can usually negotiate a good price for any slaves of interest to me. Amina, Farai and I can handle up to eight slaves in training without interfering with the normal operations of Wadi Halaf.

Although Aren still works at Wadi Halaf, his advancing age is beginning to take its toll. I've reduced his duties so that he merely supervises Farai as she handles the administration of the caravanserai. I've reassured Aren that he will always have a roof over his head at Wadi Halaf. My father's former concubines are in a similar position. The terms of my appointment as custodian of Wadi Halaf mean I can't sell them, or release them from slavery. Consequently their tenure here is secure, not that I would ever throw them out on the street.

Ramiro is the probable father of my child, although I've enjoyed sex with other men from time to time. I've no excuse for my pregnancy. I've suspected for nearly a year that I was fertile, and yet I made no effort to take preventative measures. Perhaps it's my father's advice from his death bed that prompted me to let fate take its course. Mia and Amina keep dropping hints about allowing them to have children, and I'm giving it some serious thought. Jacinta says there are potions that restore fertility within a few months once the contraceptive herbs are no longer taken.

My position as mistress of Wadi Halaf may become permanent. Efrem is a sickly child, and the physicians warn us that it is unlikely Efrem will ever be fit enough to manage the complex business of a caravanserai. His mother, Gülnihal, has taken custody of him to nurse him through his latest bout of fevers. I've seen children with similar ailments before, and unfortunately none survive for more than a few years. One day there may be better medicines and a cure for whatever ails Efrem, but at the moment even the city's best physicians can only offer ineffective tonics and soothing words. If Efrem doesn't live to see his sixteenth birthday, then my appointment as mistress of Wadi Halaf continues indefinitely. With so many men and women relying on the caravanserai for their livelihood, producing my own heir to inherit Wadi Halaf in due course seems the right thing to do.

There are times when I yearn for the simpler life of a slave, but as time progresses, I accept what life has dumped on my shoulders. A life triggered by a rash decision to seize the opportunity my father's drunken order to free me from slavery brought about. Even he eventually accepted that his blunder had a fortunate outcome for us both.

[The end]