Desert Siren

Three

Jayza cracked one eye, forcing it open despite the grit that glued it shut. The wagon flap had been tied back and two men were wrestling a barrel inside. Wondering what fresh hell the General planned on visiting on her now, she bolted upright, forgetting she was still shackled to the pole. The chains tightened, causing the manacles to dig into her wrists and the recently scabbed over chafing to bleed anew. Her shoulders wrenched painfully, and she yelped. The men looked over at her and one leered suggestively until his comrade jabbed him painfully in the ribs. Sliding around behind the pole, she watched, fighting the fear that sent her arms and legs trembling.

The men turned back to their task and finished loading the barrel, centering it just inside the back of the wagon. Jumping down, they were followed by several more men, each carrying jugs of water that were poured into the barrel. Jayza's fear grew as she pictured herself being forced under until she answered the General's questions. Groaning, she vainly tried to pull her hands free of the manacles, using the blood to make her wrists slick.

"Won't do you any good, little one." The General entered the wagon when his men were finished, striding to her side and smiling at her upturned face. "I made sure you couldn't slip out of your bracelets even if you greased your hands."

"I thought you said you weren't going to torture me?" Jayza gave up trying to escape and now sat quietly, warily watching the man standing over her as she steeled herself for whatever torture was now going to be inflicted. She tried to ignore the throbbing in her shoulders, the pain in her wrists, and the slight pricks the splinters in her hands issued whenever her palms touched something. Her sleep had been restless, full of images of the horrors she had witnessed, and the aches and pains of yesterday were now settling in with a vengeance. She was tired, sore, and in no mood for further sparring with the General. The idea of having to make sure any torture forced on her didn't cause her tongue to loosen added to her misery and she desperately wished he would just go away.

"Who said anything about torture?" he asked, frowning. Taking a seat, he pushed his cloak over his shoulders and rested one leg on the other. To Jayza, he looked like a man getting ready to take his leisure at some pleasant activity. Which maybe he thought torture was. She looked pointedly at the barrel, then back at him.

"You think I'm going to use that to force you to answer me?" His eyes went wide and he threw his head back, laughing uproariously. "Oh Jayza, I never use dunking as a form of torture. Unless you consider bringing a man around from a drunken stupor torture."

"Then what is it for? Because filling a barrel with water in the middle of the Glajik Desert seems a waste unless there's a reason for it. A very good reason."

"The reason is a good one." General Enyo gazed at her, eyes dancing and a huge smile wreathing his face. Jayza tried her best to ignore the slight flutter she felt in the pit of her stomach, determined not to let this man become anything other than her enemy. He continued watching, making her squirm uncomfortably, before deciding his nails were more interesting. "You are going to bathe."

Jayza's mouth dropped in shock as she momentarily forgot her discomfort. A bath? He was giving her the means to take a bath?

"Why?" she asked, completely mystified. "I'm a prisoner."

"Because you stink. And I refuse to take you up on my horse smelling like a sewer rat."

"I haven't agreed to joining you." Jayza's temper flared, her anger blossoming. He was the reason she stunk. There was no way she was going to allow him to make her feel grateful for letting her clean what he had caused. "And maybe I like smelling like this. At least it keeps you from touching me."