The house matron called out the names of those who would attend the evening's event for the emperor and his men, a dinner to celebrate Zarek's latest success in battle and to honor his warriors. She'd already chosen several women. Nina dreaded the prospect of hearing her own name called.
The matron was an elderly buxom woman with a sadistic streak. In charge of the house in which the slave women lived, she saw to their basic needs. In exchange, she expected no grumbling, and no trouble. The slaves knew the price for misbehaving: death. Their fear kept them docile.
"Tamara!" she called.
A young woman of exquisite beauty stepped forward. Her smoldering black eyes maintained their blank expression. Dressed in the standard robe that was all any of the women had to wear when not working an event or called for by one of Zarek's men, she was regal, notwithstanding her surroundings.
"Nina!"
She made her way to the fore. The matron told the women it was a great honor when someone specifically requested them, but Nina found no glory in being a whore to the emperor and his vile henchmen. She hid her disdain.
"Mandy!" the matron shouted.
A young woman stepped forward.
"That will be all."
As those not chosen filed out of the room, the matron turned to the dozen women before her. She looked them over, walking from one end of the line to the other.
Satisfied, she gave her instructions. Her assistants would take them to be bathed, and for hair and makeup, then would provide them gowns for the evening. "Any questions?" she asked as she ran her finger over her light mustache.
No one moved.
"In that case, you are dismissed."
As the afternoon wore on, assistants processed the women. The matron had selected a gown of exquisite bright blue silk for Nina who thought the dress must be beautiful, but she could no longer see it as such. To her, it was nothing more than a visual representation of the chains, the bonds, that held her to a life of slavery.
When it was her turn, she approached the makeup station to which the matron directed her. Before her, on a dark wooden table, sat a tray of eye shadows, rouge, and lipstick, and on the wall, a mirror.
She gazed at her reflection. Looking back was the empty shell of a person. Her looks had changed. Once her countenance had held signs of life and interest, but no longer.
The face of the young woman who was to assist her came into the mirror.
Nina froze. "Erin!" she gasped.
The assistant looked at her with pure disdain. "And you would be?"
"Erin, it's me, Nina."
"I know no one by that name."
Nina was shocked. She turned back to the mirror. Her own sister wouldn't even acknowledge her. Tears welled in her eyes, but she dared not cry. The matron wanted the women to be beautiful. Red and puffy eyes would never do.
"It's not what you think."
Erin refused to look her sister in the eye, either directly or in the mirror. She selected the product she intended to use.
"Erin," Nina tried again, "I'm so glad to see you. I've thought of you so many times and have worried for you."
"I said I don't know you."
Though hurt and angry, Nina held her tongue.
When Erin completed her task, she turned away. "You're free to go."
Nina stood, then grasped her sister's arm. She tried to get away, but Nina held fast, pulling her forward.
"Oh, I see how it is," she seethed. "You're a slave to the great emperor's house and have no say in what your superiors demand of you, but you think, while you prepare his whores for his bidding, that you bear no moral responsibility for your actions, whereas I am to be held accountable for mine.
"You may not have to lie down for those dogs, but you're every bit as much a whore as I am. You do what you must to survive, as do I. Don't think for one minute that if they demanded you do as they've forced me, you wouldn't do the same as I have. You sicken me."
She loosed her sister's arm roughly, then marched from the room.
She saw Erin several more times over the next months, but whenever it seemed she might be called to her table, changed places in the line up. After avoiding her sister for some time, Nina was unable to do so one evening. She approached the station and sat down, ignoring Erin's presence as best she could.
Erin's hands trembled. "I am so sorry," she whispered. "I had no right to say those hurtful things."
Nina looked up. She fluttered her eyes in an effort to hold back her tears, then smiled weakly. "I'm sorry too. I love you, my sister."
After that night, the two talked whenever they could. They filled one another in on the details of their lives as Zarek's slaves. While they dared not let others know of their relationship to one another, they each took comfort in the presence of the other. Eventually they spoke of the possibility of escape.
Erin's work with the slave women was just one of her many duties. During the daytime she ran one of the emperor's private kitchens. The position required that she prepare orders for food, kitchen utensils, linens, decorations, and other assorted goods. Non-slaves oversaw all of her work.
It would be difficult to collect items on the sly or to order shipments not deemed reasonable. Still, a plan slowly took shape. She would order product from select vendors whose enterprises were located well outside of Fallique. When a delivery from one of them was due in, and if Nina was to attend that evening's event, they would steal away with the departing vendor.
Erin stole three long blades that they could hide in their skirts while making their escape. Also, on the sly, she rummaged through items palace visitors threw away, eventually piecing together sufficient clothing for her sister.
Meanwhile, Nina became adept at lifting coins and jewelry that the men thoughtlessly laid about. Whenever possible, she left them with Erin. She'd place them in her sandals, then pass them on when getting a pedicure.
Then one day, a problem arose: Nina's third pregnancy. For the first few months, she successfully kept it hidden. As she entered her second trimester, she urged her sister to move up the expected date. Erin added more items to her request list—items that only one of her select vendors could deliver.
Just when Nina had lost all hope, as the authorities had sent her away for the remainder of her pregnancy, the matron called on her to serve at an event. One of Zarek's men preferred his women in her condition. Now, well into her sixth month, she could claim she was ill, but she dared not let the opportunity to escape pass her by.
On the day of the event, Nina made her way to her sister's table without raising suspicions. The Good One must be looking out for them, Erin said, for a vendor was due that very afternoon. She directed Nina to feign illness, then to go to the medical area reserved for the women. Erin would follow as soon as possible.
Nina found the clothing her sister had hidden for her—clothing that only a free woman would wear—in a hamper. She changed quickly.
Erin collected the coins and stolen jewelry she kept in an old flour bag in the back of a cupboard, then found Nina.
Together, they made their way to the kitchen.
The vendor was unloading his goods. Erin spoke to him and while she diverted his attention, directed her sister into his wagon.
Nina climbed up. She made her way to the back, found a crawl space behind some wooden boxes, and sat.
Erin offered the vendor the bag she placed in his hand to take her away from the palace. She didn't mention her sister's presence.
The bag jingled as he peeked inside. He agreed to the plan, then dropped the purse into a hole in the canvas covering the back of the wagon.
"Krippet!" someone called out.
Nina stiffened. The voice was very near.
"Is there a problem here?"
"Oh, no sir, no problem," the vendor responded.
"Is this slave bothering you?"
"No, sir. Not at all, sir. She was merely thanking me for the fine product I delivered."
Nina placed a hand over her mouth, closed her eyes tightly, and held her breath.
"Very well," the guard said. "Woman!" he then shouted.
Nina flinched.
"Off you go!" he ordered.
Tears welled in Nina's eyes as she imagined her sister returning to the kitchen.
Footsteps approached the back of the wagon. "Let me help you with those last crates."
Nina wanted to shout, she wanted to cry, but she dared not let so much as a squeak escape her lips. She feared her life was forfeit. Her hands shook. She thought she might choke, it was so hard to breathe. She willed herself to listen for more.
"Not for delivery?"
"No, thank you, sir," Krippet said. "The rest is for delivery in Mansk."
"Mansk, you say?"
"Just down the road an hour or so south."
"Make your way out quickly then," the guard ordered as he walked away. Then, just as Nina was about to take a breath, his footsteps pivoted back toward the wagon. "And next time, don't let me catch you loitering or chatting it up with any of the slaves again. You got that?"
"Right, sir. Absolutely, sir. I understand, sir."
"Be off then!"
After what seemed an eternity, the cart moved forward.
Nina's hands flew from her face as she gasped for air. Shaking, she opened her eyes. There, just inches away, sat the bag of riches she'd pilfered.
She knew then what she must do.
***Thank you for taking time with Oathtaker. I sincerely appreciate your votes and welcome your comments.***
Oathtaker is an award-winner in the 2014 Readers' Favorite International Book Award contest. A completed work, it is currently available in print form at CreateSpace at createspace.com/4767727, in print and for your Kindle on Amazon (see the link) and from Barnes and Noble for your Nook.