Sven The Artist

I met an Artist the other day while browsing the seedy shops and local flavor of Jad down on the waterfront at Canal Park. He introduced himself to me as Sven. He is, like most of his caste, a pauper, working for handouts and bits of coin. Yet he is unlike the others in that I sense in him a communal flame that burns by the fire of the Muses, and like me, he is driven.


I watched him for many hours, painting at his easel like a madman. Sven wore no shirt and his upper body and hair were flecked with the multi oil colors of his palette. For a long time he paid me no mind, yet at some point the Artist became aware of me and graced me with a bit of coy flirtation.

Later that night, when I spoke to Marius of the Artist, he tried to dispel some of my notion that the Artist is as infatuated with me, as I am of him. Marius says that all street Artists are hustlers, and that I am just an unwitting mark. It is simply that Sven assumed because I dress in fine clothing, that I have coin to squander.

But I do not buy into this theory. I admire the intelligence and insight of my Master, but I am sure on this account he is wrong.

I've met with Sven several more times since that first encounter, and he has assured me on each occasion that I am far too beautiful not to be captured on canvas by his hand. The fee is so nominal -- just six copper tarsks. Marius is much too cavalier and just not on the same wavelength that Sven and I share.

On our last meeting he took me to his studio, which was little more than a grotto chisled into the stone support beam beneath one of the piers, and I became for him a welcomed succor wherein he emptied his lust into me between ravaging kisses.

I fear I will do anything to obtain those six measly copper tarsks.
I am not a hustler's mark.
I am the possessed lover of a rising star -- Sven the Artist.
And I believe his name shall be upon the lips of the avant garde in every city.
In every house.
Beating with passion in every breast.

The Muses' Fire

I could not say for certain what madness overcomes me when the Muses' Fire ignites, but I know that I am possessed of whatever epiphany floods me, and I must seek out its bittersweet end until I am drained utterly of all that I am.

I laid there on my bed in the darkness, gazing up at the ceiling with its subtle flicker of moonlight and shadow that threads its way in through my window, without thought or care as the tingling aftermath of such a euphoric rapture slowly dwindled from me, and left me but a spent shell of my former self.

It is sexual, as nearly as I can describe it.

But there is a price to pay, for my fingertips on my left hand are ground raw. Stinging now with bloodied pain. And following in the wake of this fifteen-ahn marathon of discovering the new Stringed Lady -- the one whom I had ignored in favor of my Beloved, ever since Asia bought her for me several months ago.

Am I now a flagrant betrayer of my undying devotion for my departed Beloved? For I have given myself to the new Lady like a wanton whore.

And without regret.

Featherbeds and Gruel

One thing about Marius is that he doesn't stay angry forever, and life settles into its normalcy once more, following his discipline.

On an outing recently while Marius stayed behind and poured over his business dealings, I met a woman named Leda. I met her twice, in fact. The second time more intimately than the first, though I knew instinctively where it would lead the moment I laid eyes upon her. Leda did not think she was worthy to be desired. Yet I desire her. She did not think she was much above a piece of meat to be thrown into the slaughter. Yet I burned in my loins for her, and still I do.

I took the kajira home with me, and begged my Master to consider her, as Leda is for sale. Much to my delight, he has agreed to consider her, despite the fact that Marius has suggested he will keep the woman under locked chastity belt and put her to work in the vineyards.

Transgression

Subjugated penitent. I had not intended for my letter to be read in my presense, but in my long-gone absense instead. Needless to say, Marius was not well-pleased with my desire to spread my own wings and taste freedom, unhindered.

Each lash, twenty in all, struck across my back, flaying my flesh beneath my Master's ire. Yet it is his disappointment in me that hurts the most. Wretched failure than I am.

Freedom is not permitted to me.
And the loss of my stringed Lady, insurmountable.

The Letter

Dearest, Marius:

It is with profound joy and heartfelt sorrow both that I write to you this letter. In the months that you have been away, I was invited to Ar to play a concert for a Masque at House Veneficus.

In my short stay, I learned to desire more than I have ever known -- Freedom.

Upon my return from Ar, the claustrophobia I experienced became too great to bear while remaining at the Slaver's House for your return. Forgive me, Master, but I could not wait any longer, nor do I desire anymore to be a slave.

By the time you find this letter, I shall be gone to the ends of the world. My Lady Kalika has seen to this, and urged me to test my feet upon the road of Freedom.

Your slave,
Damos

The Sacrifice

It was inevitable that the gravity of my loss would fall upon me like a ton of bricks. The price of freedom, no matter how fleetingly short-lived.. has been great.

At the height of the first night's Wine Tasting festivities, past the twentieth ahn and well into the wee breaths of the next morning, a new cup was passed overhead. I reached up with my hand to make a grasp for it. In the game, several beneath the cup were sprinkled with its crimson rain. Yet another hand, much quicker than my own, grasped the cup away. In their collective attempt to participate in the game, the crowd alternately parted and closed like one giant breathing organism, making it near impossible to walk a straight line if one had been attempting to penetrate its center from without. In essence, a drunk's footfalls may not have stumbled. But a sober person's might've. From nowhere, I was pushed with the maddening undulations of the crowd, right into a woman's backside.

Drawn to a pair of eyes, my own had lowered downward in that time lapse of slowness, where a subtle blink or two above my veil-hidden smile may have showed no initial sign of recognition. Yet suddenly, the whole world stopped its spinning.. when I realized I was staring, face to veiled face.. with none other than Asia herself. What a heart-stopping, breath-stealing coincidence. Everything else around me seemed suddenly to fade into whitenoise.

My immediate response was also two-fold, for as part of me had the innate desire to throw my arms around the woman, another part of me wanted to turn and run. Which culminated in the taking of but a single step backward, as if I were stuck and unable to think a coherent thought. None in the nearby crowded vicinity had been any the wiser, for the tightly packed throng continued to breathe its collective breath, in and out with the same feel-good of the wine's warm spirits.

My Joy had turned to immediate fear. She was angry and this I could see it plainly in Asia's eyes.

The crowd suddenly broke open like the parting of the Red Sea, as I turned and made a run for it. Straight down the small sloping hill and right for the House, which is quite large, perhaps three times the size of the Slaver's House on Thanta Isle. Into its labyrinths I fled from her, barricading myself in Marius' private rooms. It is the heart of the House, the very innermost sanctum where I feel.. safe. And in the silence I waited, breathless with fear and exhaustion. The world spun quite maddeningly around me for all the wine I had imbibed. And all I could do was crouch to the floor and wait. Stare at the bolted door and wait.

In that instant I wished it could all be over, that I might just wake up between my Master's sheets from a bad dream, and go on living again. I never counted on this. For the past two hands have been pure bliss. Pure bliss indeed. In which time I had even written a 'goodbye' letter to my Master, that has since been tucked away beneath his pillow for him to find upon his return.

It was my beloved Stringed Lady who gave the ultimate gift of love. She the selfless sacrifice that had purchased my freedom, purchased my ship's fare. Gave me life unlike any I had ever dreamt of in a million night's dreams. She is gone forever, and my freedom has slipped through my fingers like sand.

And now... it is inevitable that the gravity of my loss should fall upon me like a ton of bricks. The price of freedom, no matter how fleetingly short-lived.. is truly great.

Perhaps greater than I myself am able to bear.

Cosian Wine Festival

City of Jad. Island of Cos. Throngs of tourists impregnate the streets and avenues to overflowing, for perhaps one of the largest annual events.. the Cosian Wine Tasting Festival. A great portion of the crowds have been contained for the better part of the day between three separate vineyards that overlap one another, and spill right into that of the city's Entertainments Commissioner, Marius of Cos. He is not present for the island's festivities.In fact, he seems to miss them almost every year, as seasonal theatre tours often preempt and take major precedence. At the festival there is music and dancing. And as expected, much drunkenness.. even among women. Which, at a wine tasting festival, seems completely forgivable.

Exactly two hands have passed since I vanished from Thanta Isle in disguise. I had been inside of the house most of the day today, until the evening torchfires were lit up in the clearings between the overlapping vineyards and the crowds all shifted collectively right beneath the veranda of my Master's bedroom window. Who could resist such a gala event? Certainly not I. In fact, I was thrilled to be participating in this year's celebration. So much so that after donning the Magician's ensemble, I exited the house and joined right in with the drinking, dancing, and general merriment.

The wine literally flows as casks are wheeled out upon carts and tapped. Each bearing the insignia of a certain vineyard from each of the four major Cosian island cities as well as dozens of smaller villas. The largest of them is Jad. "Home to the illustrious Marius and fair Damos," the people of the city say.. who is now a mite fairer dressed in a woman's clothing. For some strange reason, I have become the primadonna of tonight's festivities, as many a drunk fellow has been lined up to take their turn dancing with the Theatre Administrator's.. mystery lady.

Too, a tittle of gossip spreads like wildfire in my hearing, for was Marius not rumored to be entirely.. Same? And fond only of the loins of men? Though despite the merriment and drunkenness, I was quite mindful of the veils I wore, and careful to ensure they did not fall out of place.

Things are a little more lax here in Jad, for Cos has emerged as one of the world's primary super-powers after the destruction of Ar's walls some time back. Our 'guard' is little more than a grounds-keeper, employed by Marius to tend the vineyards and keep the House in constant repair. Tonight though, with a cup of wine in hand and twinkling punch-drunk eyes, he also took his turn dancing the night away with me.

Ever so often there came a lull in the festive music as the Musicians themselves took frequent breaks to souse themselves in wine and culinary delights.. most of which consisted of roasted fish and crustaceans. Suddenly there arose a collective roar in the crowd as a great bonfire's flames suddenly billowed up extraordinarily high into the sky. In the midst of all the flames was a large, crudely built structure.. no doubt some ancient rite of sacrifice to the god or godess of ta-grape harvest. The music was replaced with naught but an almost tribal tympani of drumbeats.. and once again some rather festive dancing broke out among the inebriated crowd.

With our hands thrown high into the air, I, along with several other women equally garbed in the regalia of heavy skirts and veils, chanted to the rhythmic tempo of drums and clapping hands, as the swollen crowd gathered round us almost impenetrably for the ancient Dance of the Syrtos:

Come dance the mystic spiral
Come dance the dance with me
With every step revitalize
The flowers, plants and trees
Gor is very ancient
Her origins unknown
So dance the mystic spiral
And scatter the seeds of time
Our magic is our giving
Our magic is our song
So give away your love today
And dance the whole night long

Yes, like a hypnotic sea, foaming and swirling in near slow motion, time had stood entirely still for me, for I was overcome with joy. Hands reached out to me, and I reached right back. The whirling quite hypnotic. Dizzying. Maddening. And still the wine flowed from every tapped cask. Too bad Marius misses these Wine Tasting Festivals every year.

Too bad.
For he has caused me miss them as well.

The Player's Luck

The first few times I have dared to venture outside of my Master's house, I was not inspired to visit any of my usual old haunts around that side of the island. Instead I found myself compelled in other directions and sites, and I suspect it is because I am still disguised in the Lady Magician's clothing and veils.

Each day I have concluded these unique excursions by giving witness to some rather intense games of Kaissa, where each of two Players sits face to face, in serious chin-rubbing strategy while mulling over how best to fell one another's game pieces on a board that is divided between the opponents' two opposing colors. The games are often long, drawn out. Sometimes a single game lasting more than a few days before one Player emerges victor and the other falls to defeat.

I am often amused beneath the soft veils as I watch, with what utter rapt fascination each Player delves himself into with his obsession of the Kaissa game. Almost as if two Rarii from opposing cities were embroiled with determining the rise and fall of entire citadels between their swords, and the whole world's fate hangs in the balance of each game piece moved upon the square Kaissa board.

For one of the Players, I have inadvertantly become his Lady Luck.

En' kara

Once the ferry sailing the vast channel between the islands of Thanta and Cos docked on the Cosian pier, I unboarded with many other passengers, though I was still disguised in a woman's clothing. With my new found freedom, I have not ventured beyond Cos, but have spent these past three days within my own Master's house. The silence, while at times quite deafening, I find that I am rather enjoying. And that due to the fact that it has not been imposed upon me, but freely chosen.

It is the height of full season. The En'kara. Already several hands past the First Equinox. The vineyard outside my Master's house is in radiant bloom and its fragrant grape blossoms fill the air with a sweetness that brings back to me many a fond memory here. My homesickness seems, for the moment, dissipated. Yet still there is an ache inside. An empty void that only Marius is able to fill.

I miss him terribly.