Metellan

I met Virosa again at the Tendora's Tit paga den, thinking to perhaps beseech her into letting me stay in her small hovel down in the basement there. I don't much care for the cramped quarters, nor the serpents that are housed in a small cage. And yet it is preferable to returning home again to the Magician's house, where I fear to meet the lady Scribe all in black again. For I am ill at ease in her presence of late, and I believe she has no good intentions toward me anymore.

Virosa was with a man I have not seen before in these parts, making preparations to leave.. Ar, I think. I was bereaved over this small fact, as if someone I loved were about to die. Virosa did not wish for me to call her by that name anymore. "Call me Amanita now," she said. Virosa does not even exist, and yet my mind played tricks on me as I stood before this same woman and spoke with her face to face.

She promised to return for me soon. I shall be counting the nights til then, as Temis, I'm quite sure, has innumerable plans for my subsequent days.

Caustic Words

The lady all in black has spent about a month with me in the Magician's home, and still there has been no sign of Xarika all this while. More and more she has become aggitated with me, to the point that I have begun to fear for my life. She is curious to find out what I know about Agamemnon Sarce, though I dare not utter one peep of what I have seen. I know nothing of the man he slew, other than that he was some general of Ar who'd come to arrest Agamemnon. And I dread every new day that comes, suspecting that the black Scribe means to see me hanged.

Virosa came home with me one eve after I ran into her at the Stadium of Blades. I had accompanied the Lady all in black there, but she hurried off to tend to some business and left me stranded for several ahn in the stands. Near the end of the night, when she had failed to return for me, I decided to head home on my own. And that is when I ran into Virosa a second time.. literally so.

Outside the Arena, we hid ourselves in the shadows 'neath the parapets. It was then that Virosa laid open her plans of leaving Ar very soon, and I in my frantic desire not to lose her, begged her to kiss me again, the way she had kissed me before.

In the end she had kissed me with such a passion that she swallowed down every last drop of my desire for her. And I truly think that my fragile heart shall break into a million pieces, should she leave me behind.

Later at home, I had planned to sleep the night in Virosa's arms. And yet Fate had her own different agenda, for as Virosa began releasing me gently back into the mainstream of my life.. the black Scribe suddenly returned. Too, she was not pleased to find me in tears; distraught. Virosa was chased out of the house with several threats of retaliation should she choose to disobey. And I myself was chastised, as only a woman scorned might lash out. She threatened to put me on a leash and expose me to the world for what I am.

Strangely, the black Scribe's caustic words served only once again to dredge up regret for all the wrongs I have committed against Marius. This too, shall be yet another straw that perhaps finally breaks the proverbial kaiila's back.

My Homesick Heart

In the months that have passed since the Magician brought me to Ar, I find my increasing lonliness leaves me wanting for my old life. I miss Marius. And just as often I think of Jade, and I wonder how she fares. Has she forgotten me by now?

Penitence is a strange thing. For as part of me wishes I'd never partaken in theft, another part of me could never fathom the eternal loss of Jade. And though I did not ultimately get to keep her, the thought that she is with my Master does bring me some relief from my own misery. I shall never cease to wish upon the stars at night. For in them I might obtain the mercy I desire. And Marius' open arms, welcoming me home once again.

Virosa

From nowhere she came, threatening to upend my constitution. And yet she claimed to know a thing or two of Fate, coercing me with a constant tug to my hand to enter with her, this paga den known as Tendora's Tit. Right into her web.. "Come in and stick around awhile," said the Spider to the Fly.

I cannot say that I have frequented many paga taverns in my lifetime, for Marius is none too fond of them. I do not think any of my former Mistresses thought much of such iniquitous dens either, though I never outrightly heard any speak of them. And yet once I crossed the threshold of Tendora's Tit, there was a certain magic that filled the air. Heady and like an aphrodisiac.

I followed Virosa to the raised platform at the fore of the tavern, where she led me by the hand. And this in of itself seemed to draw several jeers from the many patrons, their faces flushed red with sweat from too much paga. It is said that men love kajirae with spirit and tenacity. If they loved Virosa, I can see why.

Upon the platform, I raised my Kalika and bow and began a new melody that came to mind upon a lark, for I was both beguiled and inspired by the Ost Charmer. Her hips moved in grinding gyrations, and she danced in such a way as I have never before seen a woman dance. It made me almost sick with fever as I succumbed to lust. And I am sure I was not alone in my sentiment, for several times the men in the crowd rose up collectively to beat their fists into their left shoulders in ovations as we gave them our all.

In the end, I stayed the night with her down in the storage room beneath Tendora's Tit. And while at first I had been paralyzed with fear the snakes she kept in a cage, as well as the small cramped space of her personal niche.. I did my best to overcome my acute sense of claustrophobia, long enough to spend the night in her arms and joined at the hip as lovers.

All That Glitters

From the stone steps that lead to this magnificent structure.. stripped of my shirt by a thief.. the Great Theatre is not at all the way I have remembered it.

Nor the way I wish to again.

Lady In Black

"Very well. I shall stay, but I must warn you. Should you become suddenly tempted to take advantage of my person, I am armed with pins, needles and other weapons all over my body."

I had met the lady on one of Ar's many streets that intersect the market where I've been staying. She was dressed all in black, as if she meant to keep from drawing any unwanted attention to herself. But I could not help but notice this, as if it stood out like a sore thumb. From across the street, I could not be certain if she were being robbed, or merely cajoled by one of the friendlier hoodlums that prowl the streets of the Metellan District after dark... but when she asked whether I meant to stand there or come and save her, I assured her it was the latter.

I was most glad when she'd not required my assistance in fending off a street thug afterall. And yet she seemed rather pleased with my company at any rate as we walked several blocks, arm in arm. Along the way I learned she stayed at one of the Inns as a guest, having no real home of her own. And several times I did ask her to accompany me to the Magician's house. I had been alone there for some time, afterall.

I think that oftentimes it is proper for a lady in strange company, to announce she is well-armed and quite dangerous. Although at first it confused me, merely because I wondered how she slept at all knowing that with one wrong move, she might become a human pin cushion, injected with her own poisons and whatnot.

But this was when the lady all in black broke down and confessed that she had no weapons upon her person whatsoever. And in that regard, I was not required to be so careful when I curled myself around her the very first night she slept with me.

Fiona

She was a pretty woman in my arms, timid at first and later with her courage laid bare. I led her in our secret revolt against all things lawful and right as we crossed our hearts and vowed our propoganda would spurn none but those of Ko-ro-ba.

Halfway across the clearing and back, the patterns of a star-crossed dance lay imbedded in the flattened sod, for proof that we had been there. It was the next best thing sans the lost glass slipper.

And just like that, she slipped from my grasp and was gone.

Lourdes Fleur

It was none other than the Taurentian, Agamemnon Sarce that I had crossed paths with again. He asked me whether I was familiar with Ka-la-na, though I had to admit to him my experience was scarce. Also, I refrained from filling him in on some of Marius' more colorful expletives regarding the staple wine of Ar, for I feared to hurt Agamemnon's feelings. Instead I mentioned only a rumor to him that I had heard of Ka-la-na's most potent ability to reduce a free woman to a slave for the space of an ahn. It was only when I speculated what such a drink must do to men, that he insisted we imbibe.

I recall being almost immediately dizzied by the drink, and I think for one fleeting moment I had the innate desire to silence his copious monologue on the various qualities of Ka-la-na via a more intimate transgression of my mouth than mere words alone. Yet not two seconds after curling my arms around his neck and leaning much too close, Agamemnon rose abruptly and accused me of being drunk. His laughter was not the genuine sort, but bore upon it an aggitation.. as if he fought against his own natural desire to taste my mouth upon his own.

"Let's go to a party," he said instead as he lept up from the bench we two had occupied, side by side for the better part of the day. "I will intoduce you to all the hags I know so well."

Once we passed the gates and I was introduced by my escort, I played my Kalika at the insistence of Lourdes Fleur with such an infectious tandem of melodies, that she.. full of Ka-la-na herself.. danced before me like a woman abandoned to the very throes of sensuality. I wondered if she were aware for the ahn, how like a kajira she seemed.

"I have never, in all my life, danced the way I did just now." She had a tiny dot of perspiration beading the small crinkle in her brow, and I longed so to take her into my embrace and kiss her. Just like her namesake, she was soft and fragile like the furled petals of a flower.

And so with all my heart I made my silent supplication that she allow me to love her whilst I blurted a thing I probably should not have said aloud: "I am glad I have inspired you then, my Lady. And you are certainly the most beautiful hag in whose company I have ever been graced with."

I am not sure at which juncture Lourdes' sudden burst of tears combusted into a veritable war. I had no idea I would hurt her so, yet before I could even think to beg the Lady's forgiveness.. her brother Leander was suddenly in my face, confronting me. I am not sure what infraction, whether mine own or another's, brought about Nemesis' divine retribution.. for I never saw it coming until justice was already much passed.

Leander's attention was suddenly elsewhere, as was my own. Yet mine did not linger, not after a man named Flavius entered House Fleur and entered into an altercation with Agamemnon. Their fists flew only moments before the parry of heavy steel crossed back and forth, yet by then I had already hidden myself behind Lourdes, who was curled upon one of the divans. From there I laid upon my belly on the floor and hid beneath the furniture.. until it and the lovely Lady Fleur were overturned and spilled to the middle of the floor and I was once more exposed.

In one fell swoop of steel, Lourdes was separated from all her hair and the man Flavius lay slain in his own sanguine pool of blood. I could bear no more as my own bile threatened to rise up inside my throat.. and I crawled upon my hands and knees to escape the violence. Once again I am convinced it is Nemesis and her scales of justice that have sought me out. Yet twice now I have escaped her scathing punishment.

The Magician's Apprentice

The trip to Ar was far far longer than I remembered it being. I supposed it was because I was too busy looking back, rather than forward. When Circé Veneficus invited me to Ar on the last En'kara, I had been rather elated. I thought and dreamt of nothing else until I arrived at last. Yet now in my present circumstance, I felt no such joy in my heart. I do not know what will become of me, nor whether I will ever see Marius again in my lifetime.

There is both an element of entertainment and of mystery enshrouding Xarika. She is a Magician, and I sense that most folks regard her with a hint of loathing. And yet at the same time, they are drawn by curiousity to see whether she is truly able to make a person vanish into thin air. Or to saw a person completely in half and put him or her back together again. I have incidentally been reduced to this most humiliating position of being the Lady's apprentice while we sail across Thassa and continue our voyage along the Vosk.

People stare at me as if I am some freak riddled with the Dar-kosis, as if I am an unnatural anomoly when I return from the void I had vanished to.. or when I rise and walk as a whole man, only moments after being sawed in half inside the Magician's truck. They used to look upon me much differently when I was known as Musician. I have become a pariah in their midst, and I fear I shall die of lonliness before the end of Se'var.

Sold

It was not long before my joy became dashed upon the stones of utter devistation, when Marius announced to me that it was I who had been sold. In the night while Jade and I had slept so soundly in one another's arms, my Master sold me. Following the exchange of coin from Xarika's hand to his, I myself have become the expendable commodity. In shock I faced him, before suddenly losing my composure and throwing myself at him... where I am sure I wept so like a woman. How can he be filled with hate so easily. How? When I love him so unconditionally! I clung to him with my weeping and my begging, reducing myself in his eyes yet further. Until I could not possibly sink any lower while still remaining above the ground.

"Go, Damos. She waits for you at the pier." He peeled my arms from around his neck and pushed me back.

I've no more left within me with which to beg his mercy. I turned my back upon my Master to gather my belongings. And then I fled from his House without looking back. All the way to the pier I ran, where I met the Lady Xarika waiting for me, just as Marius had said. I wonder if she knows how desperately I yearn to hate him. I wonder if she even cares.

Writ of Claimance

Early in the morning I arose as usual, though much pleased to find that the woman Jade was still with me in my bed and with our limbs tangled the way lovers limbs ought. Lovemaking hung in the air, its scent slightly stale though light upon my senses. It drew a smile to my mouth instantly, that smell. And I think I could grow used to waking with it every morning for the rest of my days.

Jade was soon to rouse right after me, and together we headed down the stairs to break the fast with Marius, for this ritual has been his and mine for nearly a decade. While I seated myself at my Master's right hand, Jade was once again allowed the chair at his left. I do not know whether he is aware how she brightens the room so. In fact, she brightens the entire house. Or perhaps it is just me, seeing my world anew through a rosier shade of glass.

After we dined, Marius instructed me to go to my room and practice on my Kalika. Yet it was clear he had in mind to leave the House with Jade. How instantly then I was filled with mistrust for the very man whom I have trusted for the last nine years. The very one who owns my soul, I was convinced, was plotting to sell my Jade... my kajira.. my love. Plotting to sell her in the markets like some cheap and disposable commodity.

Go to your room, he told me, remarking that he did not wish to return and find me upon my belly in the Atrium, weeping inconsolably like some woman. I threw myself at him; begged him not to sell Jade. But Marius is selectively deaf when he chooses, and again he reminded me to go upstairs to my room and practice my Kalika.

I want to hate him! I want so very badly to despise my Master.
But alas.. I am weak. For I love him unconditionally.

Marius returned after half the day had passed. I did not play my instrument as bidden, either. But lay upon my belly across my bed and wept the entire time. It was Jade who came to my room and knocked, seeking me out of my despair. I learned from her.. and from my Master later.. that he filed a notarized Writ of Claimance with the city Magistrate. From this day forth, the kajira's former owner.. has exactly two hands to appear and make a claim upon her property. In the event that the Slaver Asia fails to appear, the kajira Jade becomes the sole property of my Master.

I am torn now, between love for Asia, and love for the kajira.
A part of me longs to see her again..
and yet another part of me prays I never do.

Tangled Sheets

On the third day the cellar door opened, spilling a searing light down into my purgatory, blinding me with it. Jade only groaned beside me, too far wasted with thirst and hunger to cry out.

Marius descended the stone steps and crouched to unlock both our shackled wrists, before he left again without a word. I fear the worst of my punishment has only just begun. I fear my Master has somehow.. disowned me.

Nevertheless, Jade and I were given a rather sumptuous breakfast and plenty of water in the kitchen upstairs. Afterward we were both put to the wall naked. And whipped. I the moreso, for Jade's tender flesh was spared any lasting marks upon it. And still she wept til my own heart broke for her. I am powerless to save her from my Master's ire.

Yet in the end we were dismissed to my room, wherein I laid beside this kajira more confused than ever. Was that it then? Was that all that Marius had to say on the matter? I let these troublesome thoughts escape my mind as Jade and I spent the remainder of the day tangled in the sheets.

Confinement

Not a further word was spoken of our infraction, nor any word at all for that matter. Marius had been stanchly silent for the duration of the trip until we docked at the Port Authority of Jad. Once we reached home... home sweet home.. Marius banished Jade and I both to the wine cellar, where I have been an infrequent prisoner.

Each of us shackled by a wrist near the dank stone floor, we were closed in utter darkness for the space of three days. Without food or water. Without any light whatsoever. It is a pure psychological hell to whomever must endure it. Yet it was the constant presence of Jade in my utter darkness that has kept me sane this time.

We held to each other amidst our whisperings that were meant to assure one another that neither dreamt.

My Darkest Fear

Once inside the confines of my cabin aboard The Elizabeth, I unlocked my steamer trunk and released Jade from her small prison as I tried not to even imagine the claustrophobia such a tight space might cause. Had I been in her place, I am certain I would have been long dead by now.

We were quick to discover one another again, wasting no time beneath the sheets of my small cabin bed. Hours passed I am certain, though I had lost count. Jade remained with me through a turbulent spell once the breakers caused a rocking in the ship. And without a hint of mocking upon her lips.

Yet as the storm died, another rose fiercely to take its place. And it was named Marius.

This my darkest fear: Jade and I were caught in the very act of thievery. We had stolen from the Slaver's purse. Stolen a slave, to be precise.

The Stowaway

Just days before our scheduled trip back across Thassa and the last stop on the island of Farnacium, Asia arrived. Drawn from my idle prattle with a lady perfumer, she told me that Jade was left on board and bade me to pay the kajira a visit.

It was not much longer then that Jade and I dragged Asia's trunks and belongings to the Inn where the lady had already rented herself a room. And on the spur of the moment I laid with Jade on her Mistress' bed, planting myself inside of her without a thought of being caught. Too, I conspired with the kajira and plotted to hide her, for I wanted her as my own.

At the time, it seemed a brilliant plan. I emptied my steamer trunk and packed my things inside of Marius' trunk, figuring these would be hauled off and stowed aboard by dock hands as usual, dispersed then into the various ship cabins. I often have my own cabin, and this time was no different. Jade was hidden away therefore, inside of my own trunk, where she would wait in abject silence for me to release her.

I was late for the roll call, and consequently the group boarding. Yet shortly after the first whistle blew, I emerged from the Admiral's Inn lugging a my steamer trunk behind me. I had not gone halfway across the plank either, when Asia, who had been missing for more than a hand, showed up suddenly and called out to me. As I turned, she hurried across the plank to meet me, causing a heavy brick of despair to sink into my belly.

Fraught with paranoia, I am sure I wasn't entirely myself and a tad green of palor. Strangely, she did not seem to notice that my trunk was far heavier than an instrument and several pairs of clothing ought to have been, and simply suspected that I was ill at the mere thought of hitting the high seas.

It was by a stroke of luck then that the dock hand sounded the last whistle and came for my boarding pass. The lady did not produce one of her own and was subsequently chased off the ship before the plank was drawn away and the anchor lifted.

As we were tugged from the harbor slip, I stood there on deck for a few ehn and watched the lady. I did not know whether she would miss Jade or not. And strangely, I did not care.

Last Encore

Marius and I set sail again for the mainland with the rest of the Theatre Troupe. We are scheduled to play several of the major cities along the Delta and the Vosk before the season's end and expected to be gone just over a month.

Before departing I had asked Asia whether she would travel to meet us, and whether she would also bring Jade along. For I knew I would miss them both. Asia assured me that she would come, and with this hope inside of me, I believed I should not succumb to utter homesickness afterall.

It was not til the last leg of this tour however,that I had begun to despair, for by the time we reached Port Kar again, there was still no sign of the lady or her kajira and I was heartsick.

Proxy

Marius has a knack for discovering things that most would probably overlook. This time it came in the guise of a hidden portrait up in his attic, and the man was none too pleased about it. Though I could not be for certain who had dredged up his ire more.. whether Asia or myself.

At any rate he sprung its discovery in the midst of idle conversation, stating he had found the most unusual thing in the crawlspace of his attic. And for conspiring with me to hide Sven's interlopement, Asia was punished right along with me for concealing such grave matters while staying as a guest in his home.

Suffice it to say, Marius does not much enjoy being lied to. And Asia was forced to whip me until I bled. Afterward, her remorse was great regarding having gouged my flesh. Though I am not so sure my Master was appeased. Nevertheless, the portrait remains in his attic, right where I have hidden it.

Revelations

In the passing weeks I had long forgotten what lay hid up in the attic space above Marius' private rooms. Long had I forgotten Sven, and my own unaccounted-for portrait as well. My idle time between rehearsals has been spent increasingly with Jade, Asia's kajira whom I have grown exceedingly fond of over time.

The Musician's Lover

It has been weeks since Asia returned safe and sound and over time I have begun to dwell less and less on Sven, reconciling myself to the fact that I may never see him again.

Recently there arrived a new fellow at the House, seeking employent from Asia as a hired bodyguard. There is something peculiar about him that I don't like. I don't think Marius trusts him either, for he didn't miss the chance to grill the hopeful recruit and delve into all sorts of personal questions that clearly made the man known as Xenon squirm under the line of fire. I am convinced that this is because my Master truly cares for Asia, even if he doesn't show it outwardly.

One evening while Marius and I were out, the newly hired guardsman had showed up to visit Asia. I learned this when I had returned home earlier than my Master, and while still out in the yard I was stunned by a man hiding in the tall copse of bushes who'd suddenly lept out at me. Covering my mouth from crying out, he told me that Sven was waiting on the road for me on the far side of the Vineyard. And once I had gathered my wits about me again, I nodded in the man's overpowering embrace, complying with his wish that I accompany him that very moment.

Once we reached the end of the road, I saw Sven standing there. He was holding in his hands, a paper-wrapped parcel the exact size and shape of what could only be... my portrait! I was elated that he had brought it to me personally, and I ran to him the remainder of the way.

"I brought you a gift, Damos." He said this with a smile I shall never forget as long as I live. And once again I was compelled. This time to throw my arms about him and draw him into several shameless kisses. I cared not that his cohort looked on, boredly uncomfortable. Sven only laughed, and then he told me I should not tear away the paper and peek. Not until I got home.

I loved him. I love him still. And when he and his cohort turned to go, I myself ran all the way back home.

I suppose then that it was the commotion of my entrance that drew Asia and finally her newly hired guardsman out from their private cubby, for as they both peered into the Atrium, there I was already on my knees and ripping away the paper wrappings. My portrait! And true to his word, he'd not charged me a single tarskbit! Sven is the best friend I have ever had.

But I was suddenly confused, for there on the canvas was not my own smiling image... but Asia's. Naked and posed like a pleasure slave! Could she see the surprise in my eyes as I glanced up from the portrait to her... and finally the face of her guardsman peering over her shoulder from behind? I'm sure she could, and did. She wanted to see the portrait, too. But I could not allow this. Once again, I am afraid for Sven.

I turned and fled from Asia, who only called out after me adamantly to halt myself in my tracks as she attemped to chase me up the stairs. But I was faster, and I locked myself in my Master's private apartments on the third floor... where I have hidden away the Portrait for safekeeping. It is mine.

Sven gave it to me, and it is mine.

Paint Your Palette Blue & Gray

Vincent
Don McClean

Starry, starry night
Paint your palette blue and gray
Look out on a summer's day
With eyes that know the darkness in my soul

Shadows on the hills
Sketch the trees and the daffodils
Catch the breeze and the winter chills
In colors on the snowy linen land

Now I understand
What you tried to say to me
How you suffered for your sanity
How you tried to set them free
They
would not listen
They did not how
Perhaps they'll listen now

Starry, starry night
Flaming flowers that brightly blaze
Swirling clouds in violet haze
Reflect in Vincent's eyes of china blue

Colors changing hue
Morning fields of amber grain
Weathered faces lined in pain
Are soothed beneath the artist's loving hand

For they could not love you
But still your love was true
And when no hope was left inside
On that starry, starry
night
You took your life as lovers often do
But I could have told you, Vincent
This world was never meant for one
As beautiful as you

Starry, starry night
Portraits hung in empty halls
Frameless heads on nameless walls
With eyes that watch the world and can't forget

Like the strangers that you've met
The ragged men in ragged clothes
The silver thorn of bloody rose
Lie crushed and broken on the virgin snow

Now I think I know
What you tried to say to me
How you suffered for your sanity
How you tried to set them free
They did not listen
They're not listening still
Perhaps they never will

Ransom Note

Funny how a small series of seemingly unrelated events can culminate into a much larger picture, a much larger explosion. Catastrophe. In the end, I am forbidden to ever see Sven again.

In the beginning, my heart was set upon making Marius and Asia see one another with different eyes. It should make no difference that each barely tolerates the other, or finds the other insufferable to a fault. I belong to Marius. Be default, I am unable to propose a contract of joining to Asia. Is it wrong to seek such vicariously through one who would serve as surrogate then? Because Marius is free, and he is free to enjoy such legal liberties.

Neither of them took my impromptu suggestion well. In fact, both seemed embarrassed and aggitated by it. Marius was the only to lash out at me, however. He struck me across the face and shoved me away from him, forbidding me to speak of a joining between he and Asia ever again.

Stung with humiliation, I left the house and went down to the beach where I remained for several ahn. When I returned home again, I was not empty handed, but had brought with me a fair share of live crabs, and I figured this would appease Asia, whom I also angered earlier that night. Marius had long since gone to bed but Asia was nowhere to be found in the house.

Within a few moments, Asia's thrall who dresses himself in women's things and wears women's makeup, came charging into the house screaming and yelling hysterically that the lady had been kidnapped by the Artist. He informed me that she was going to die and that I would never see her again. And then he took off running again to town, to go and make formal accusations against free men. A slave.. charging men with crimes. He seems to feel this is both his right and duty. I have a feeling his days are soon shortened and numbered.

I went to see Sven, because I wanted to hear him say with his own lips and tongue, that the thrall is a lunatic and makes extremely dangerous accusations about free persons. Sven does not know Asia, nor has he seen any woman fitting her description. And I was much relieved. I never believed Sven capable of extortion and taking hostages. He also offered to paint my portrait at last.. and without charging me a single tarskbit. He is kind, and I know he loves me.

It was during my visit that a stranger showed up with a Letter from Asia addressed to me. Rufus read it aloud in my hearing, and it was Asia saying she had been shipwrecked somewhere near the Isle of Talbot on her way to Thanta Island. I was instructed to return to the House and find her money in the vanity drawer in her room, then bring it to a certain Captain also named in the letter, so that he could promptly sail out to Talbot Isle and rescue her. I followed the instructions implicitely and delivered the whole sum of twenty-six silver tarsks and seventy-three copper tarsks to the named Captain. Rufus accompanied me to the House and back, ensuring I was not robbed by anyone while bearing such a large amount of money.

Asia was delivered home, safe and sound by the next day. But I learned, much to my own heartbreak, that Sven used me as an accomplice to collect a ransom for a hostage he was holding. I still have a difficult time accepting this as truth, and I want to run to the Artist and bury myself in his arms. Although I am forbidden to ever see Sven again. Asia says he is a dangerous man and she does not want me hurt.

He has something that she wants, however, but so far she has not named the item in particular. Marius offered legal councel, because he seems to think that Asia is contemplating engaging in something criminal. I have offered to retrieve this thing for her. If only I knew what it is that she seeks from Sven.

If only I could see him one more time.

Sven's Hands

As the weeks and days count down toward Opening Night of the first season's Theatre Productions, Marius' days become longer and longer that he is away at work. The rehearsals for Actors are far more grueling than they are for Musicians, and I am home increasingly more ahns per day than he is. I've begun to miss him.

Too, Asia has been counting down her days that she will return to Thanta Isle. She says she will be returning, but I fear that may not be the case once she arrives there. Leda and Capriel work the Vineyards from sunrise to sunset everyday of the hand and I rarely see either of them anymore, either.

Once again I find myself dreaming of Sven's hands. They are warm and gentle, flecked with dark charcoal and paint beneath his nails that gives them a somewhat dirty appearance upon first glance. I have not laid eyes upon the Artist since before we set sail for the mainland and headed to the Sardar Mountains, and I find myself again, ever increasingly longing for his company in my own lonliness.

Marius has not expressly forbidden me to see Sven, but I know he does not care for these Bohemian types who live transient, migratory lives, roving from city to city, island to island. I however, think he is overly judgemental and harsh.

Sven is.. like no other.
Kind and with a zest for life.
Brilliant. Talented.
Breathtakingly handsome.
And mine.

Homecoming

As much as I love to travel and see the world, the sweetest part of every trip is the homecoming. It is not too much longer now before we reach the Port Authority of Jad on the Island of Cos, and I can scarcely wait to stand upon dry land again. I have been looking forward to seeing Leda again as well, for she was left behind at the House with Edgar to tend the Vineyards.

Coming home we are one more of us than what we left with, for Marius did purchase the woman Capriel at the Faire as well. I am particularly overjoyed that two women will be sharing life with me now. And I think Marius is glad too, though he does not show this readily. Instead, he puts on a front and acts as if he hates having women cluttering his life. But I know better. Too, I an certain that Edgar, our caretaker, will also be overjoyed at the extra pairs of hands, especially since Marius purchased the Coriolanus Vineyards right next to Batavian Vineyards.

Marius says he will keep both Leda and Capriel in locked chastity belts.
I only hope he was not serious.

The Admiral's Inn

So few people have anything decent rolling off their tongues for the city of Port Kar, though I rarely hear such negativity from my Master or any of his handful of traveling associates who are a few of Jad's most wealthy Merchants. Much planning over business forecasts and sales projections goes into these once-per-anum gatherings just before and after the En'Var Sardar Faire. They are powerful men, and my Master is numbered among them, though he is not of their caste.

The meetings may go on for an entire day and all throughout the night as well, and may not adjourn until sometime late the following afternoon. It is for that reason that a suite at the Admiral's Inn is usually rented where I and their companions are expected to entertain ourselves until these men run out of new ideas to seize and chew upon.

Rented out for the night like a whore, I am not able to choose otherwise but to entertain whomever has paid my Master for the use of me. Of course, it has all been arranged very discretely, right down to the renting of the suite under a pseudonym. No harm done the ladies. They, as well as I, are quite pleasantly out of the hair of their companions and Marius, respectively, for the entire night. It is not the first time I've been the plaything of a wealthy person. Nor is it to be the last. Did I have fun? Strangely, I don't even remember.

Typically I do not over indulge myself with wine or other strong drink, as Marius tends to frown upon anything that would be construed as excess. He is the epitomé of stoicism and practices all things in moderation. And while he might be inclined to disagree, he is rigidly severe in his ways. Yet on these once-yearly excursions to and from the En'Var Faire, I succumb to over indulgence and cast all moderation to the wind with drinking and merriment. This year I spent the two royal days with four free women, all at the same time. I had an excruciatingly good time -- I think. I hope I did. For the price I paid next morning was akin to having been stampeded by a herd of Bosk. They call it Hangover.

I call it being glad that my Master is opposed to this sort of thing on a regular basis.
Some folks live with this
affliction every day of their lives.
Especially in Port Kar.

Ampitheatre

This is our finale, the last day of the Sardar Faire. With an impromptu scheduling of events, I played my Kalika for a night at the main apmiptheatre.

Just one night before the season's Sardar Faire drew to its conclusion. There was quite a crowd drawn in anticipation, and Asia even brought Jade to come and see me play. For at least a few hours I stood on the odeum stage down below, watching now and then as I led the audience captively into a string of complicated melodies. Yet it was Jade's pretty face that drew my eyes back each time.

For the duration of this four-hand journey, celibacy had been impressed upon me. And by the end of my concert I was nearly at my wit's end with need. Jade carried my instrument case for me as we walked back to the tent where our cots were, and it was there that I.. took her.. rather by force. No longer able to contain myself.

What a wretch I had become, caring not one iota whether she wanted to be taken. Later I could weep. But not then. For I needed her body to join with mine own. I needed to fill her belly again and again until I was surrendered of my seed. And afterward, I took her back to her Mistress.

Never in my life have I used a woman thusly. What have I become?

Paga Tent

So distraught I was at seeing Capriel again, only to lose her into the crowd. Again I had become ill with fever and malaise, until I wanted simply to waste away and die in my pain and despair. Too, I was in no good mood to squander the night away with Asia and her company of slaves. But preferred the solace and the night with my four copper tarsks jingling together in my pocket. I liked the sound of them. They had the sound of freedom.. even if only for a few ahn.

It was inside of a colorful paga tent that I had ducked. The night had grown so entirely late that only a few remained, and they were seemingly on their last leg as well, one breath from keeling over in their drunken stupors. I'm not altogether sure the merchant supervising that particular tent was thrilled to see me arrive.. yet off in one corner there was still some sort of contest going on, where large men appeared to be hurling kajirae into the air for sport. The winner obviously he who could throw a woman the farthest.

I had a cup of milk brought to me by that same merchant, who only made a sour face as it was delivered, as if milk were somehow the worst thing in the world. I've no stomach at all for paga. However, his expression cleared away rather promptly when money was placed into his sweaty palm, and the man soon disappeared.

I tried to pay no mind to the contest across the tent, despite the whoops and shouts each time one of the contestants bested his opponent, but instead nursed my sorrows slowly in my cup of milk. Yet at some point a pretty blonde woman had crawled upon hands and knees beneath the table where I sat, and had hidden herself between my legs. She did not come out again until one of the hulks seemed satisfied that she had run off into the night. And he too, vanished somewhere on the vast faire grounds in search of her.

Verroooooosssskaaa. That is what she called herself. And though it was difficult for me to pronounce her name as she herself had done, she snapped at me for suggesting a simpler moniker -- Verr. Everything else seemed rather foreign on her tongue as I tried to comprehend her words. In the end however, I was certain she was asking me to buy her, and I suppose she didn't mind that I only had remaining upon my person, three copper tarsks. She loved me dearly. I could see it in her pretty blue eyes. But alas, I am in love with Capriel.

I was forced to break Verrooooooosssskaaa's heart. Glancing back at me as she departed, she gave a rather wistful sigh and called out to me, something.. 'master,' I was certain.. and forced me down into my despair and self-loathing even deeper. I fear there is not enough milk in all the world to drown my sorrow and numb this pain.

You Give Me Fever

For me, the pivotal point of the entire Faire is the kajira dance contest, and I make it a special point to engage in being among the crowd of spectators. Women fascinate me, and I never tire of the way their bodies are designed and move with an innate appealing lure to men's eyes. My eyes.

This year, much to my disappointment, I was detained and I missed the entire contest. It was afterward however, that I had overheard a few spectators talking over the various particulars of each contestant, and the name of this year's winner was spoken -- Capriel.

Needless to say, my heart stopped its beat for the fraction of an ihn, for I was not sure I had heard correctly. Was it the same Capriel that I had known so long ago? My Capriel?

In an instant my disease crept back upon me full force from its lengthy remission, and I am a man torn in half again with wanting what I can never have.

Merchant Tent

The Faires are run almost entirely by the Merchants' caste. They come from every city in the world to display and sell their wares, most of which is very exotic and unattainable otherwise.

Given only a small handful of copper tarsks by Marius at the onset of our arrival, I was careful in how I spent them. It was hard not to want everything, and I do not know how I would limit myself if I had access to more means than a mere handful of copper tarsks. Rest assured, it was less than six. Otherwise, I know exactly where I should spend them! I am certain Marius knows this too, for my allowance was only four.

Faire Entertainer

Every year it is the creme de la creme of performers that headline the Sardar Faires, ranging from acrobats to larl tamers to magicians. From actors to musicians to poets. I myself am always in awe of those who perform death defying stunts and near-impossible feats of skill.

In one particularly large tent, there were trapeze artists and tightrope walkers who'd brazenly defy gravity without even the aid of safety nets. I was in awe, yet I inwardly cringed at the same time.. for fear one will fall to his or her death.

In all my years coming to a faire once per annum, I have only witnessed such a tragedy once in my lifetime. And I hope I never do again.

The Tent City

While creature comforts may be a bit strained, the Tent City nonetheless makes provision for just about everything imaginable. Marius and I travel with the same small handful of wealthy Cosian Merchants every year at the En'Var Faire. This year is no exception, for he enjoys surrounding himself with nobility and wealth, and in turn they do seem enamored of his fame and notoriety. Like compatible bed fellows, they go hand in hand.

It was part way along the intitial onset of our trip across Thassa, that we stayed the night at one of Port Kar's more oppulent Inns. Marius spent the night in the banquet hall of the Admiral's Inn discussing business and windfall profits with his close friends, while I spent the night in a rented suite there with their companions, the plaything of the spoiled and filthy rich.

Yet here at the faire we have scarcely crossed paths with those handful of wealthy Merchants, and probably will not until it is time to leave again and head back home. There is too much to see and do. And as for Marius, not enough time in the day to increase his wholesale wine profits.

Sardar Faire

It is nearly two hands that have passed before we have finally reached the furthest point north on the Pilgrim's Road, at the end of which lies an event that unfolds itself four times per year, to mark the heralding of each solstice and each equinox.

For many it is a religious epiphany, where pilgrims gather to hear the prophetic utterances of Initiates' divine communion with Priest Kings. For others, it is merely a social event, a cultural gathering of cities and castes wherein the universal human condition is celebrated and a Jubilee of sorts becomes strictly enforced by Merchant Law. For a few, it is nothing more than a crossroads.. a ladder for climbing to the heights of financial and social success.

Marius falls into the latter category, skeptical of those of the first with their vain preachings and self-righteous judgementalism among the masses. He doubts the very existance even of Priest Kings, claiming them nothing more than the self-imposed morality of rigorous insitutions designed to prey upon the weak-minded and rob them slowly of their faculties, and ultimately their material possessions.

I am not so wholly persuaded however ,on either side of the coin. For part of me would side with Marius' obvious empirical logic. One needs only to witness the foolishness of those who fall surrendered to the vain babblings of Initiates. Yet another part of me, deep inside, yearns to believe that there must be a Higher Power. And if this is correct, then all men must be slaves.

This is the Sardar Faire.
It is essentially whatever you make of it.

What if God Was One of Us
Joan Osbourne

If God had a name, what would it be
And would you call it to his face
If you were faced with him in all his glory
What would you ask if you had just one question

What if God was one of us
Just a slob like one of us
Just a stranger on the bus
Trying to make his way home

If God had a face what would it look like
And would you want to see
If seeing meant that you would have to believe
In things like heaven and in Jesus and the Saints
And all the Prophets

What if God was one of us
Just a slob like one of us
Just a stranger on the bus
Trying to make his way home
He's trying to make his way home
Back up to heaven all alone
Nobody calling on the phone
Except for the pope maybe in Rome

What if god was one of us
Just a slob like one of us
Just a stranger on the bus
Trying to make his way home
Just trying to make his way home
Like a holy rolling stone
Back up to heaven all alone
Just trying to make his way home
Nobody calling on the phone
Except for the pope maybe in Rome

Reminiscing

I miss you.

The Touch of the Master's Hand
Mya Brooks

"It was battered and scarred,
And the auctioneer thought it
Hardly worth his while
To waste his time on the old violin,
But he held it up with a smile.
"What am I bid, good people", he cried,
"Who starts the bidding for me?"
"One dollar, one dollar, Do I hear two?"
"Two dollars, who makes it three?"
"Three dollars once, three dollars twice, going for three",

But, No,
From the room far back a grey haired man
Came forward and picked up the bow,
Then wiping the dust from the old violin
And tightening up the strings,
He played a melody, pure and sweet,
As sweet as an angel sings.

The music ceased and the auctioneer
With a voice that was quiet and low,
Said "What now am I bid for this old violin?"
As he held it aloft with its' bow.
"One thousand, one thousand, Do I hear two?"
"Two thousand, Who makes it three?"
"Three thousand once, three thousand twice,
Going and gone", said he.

The audience cheered,
But some of them cried,
"We just don't understand."
"What changed its' worth?"
Swift came the reply.
"The Touch of the Masters Hand."

Capriccio

We have set sail from the port of Jad to the mainland, and in my determination not to be ill on this voyage, I begged from my Master a remedy. A trade then, was solicited between my Master and the ship's Physician, and in my waxing health I entertained the lady for the night in her cabin.

This was no mere remedy, but a rather powerful elixer that left me somewhat dazed and unable to distinguish reality from those altered states that I think my mind may have conjured. It was not the least unpleasant, that is until the drug began to wane and I found myself despairing.

The whitecapped tempest rising halfway across Thassa thrilled me to the point that my Lover for the night became herself the Apsara, folding me into her embrace against her divine breast. I never wanted to be roused from this paradise. But alas, my Lover drew me once again from this deep spell, the warm embrace of my panacea no more.

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.

Taste of Freedom

Ever since I have returned to Thanta Island, I have an insatiable hunger. Freedom. While its initial taste had been sweet as honey in my mouth, the longing for it became as bitter as wormword. I tried to speak with Asia regarding my growing desires, and at first she seemed merely to placate me with light banter. But by the next day, her ears were adamantly closed. When she overheard me speaking with her kajira Raja of my plans to leave soon, Asia interjected by forbidding me to go anywhere at all.

Silly woman. Marius says women are often prone to bouts of silliness. It's a hormonal thing that comes and goes with the cycles of the moons. At any rate, my mind was made up late last night, when I had stared at the ceiling's watermark in my room in thoughtful contemplation, rather than drifting off to sleep. I want very much to discover the other side of life. Where I am accountable for myself, and where I am my own man. My own master.

Interestingly, I left Thanta and boarded the ferry to Cos still dressed in Xarika's skirts, robes, and veils. The looks I incurred, while somewhat amusing, were much different than those given to a man. Strange men tipped their heads to me and smiled the smiles of flirtation, even if subtle. They bade me to walk ahead of them out of politeness, and even offered their hands out to ensure I did not trip on the dock's boarding platform.

And now I plainly see... just how the Magician herself has managed to vanish into thin air without a trace. For I myself have vanished and dissapeared from Thanta Island.

Without a trace.
This is the ultimate freedom.

Message in a Locked Tube

By the lips of the girl Eta, the contents of the locked message tube had been meant for the Arian... and presumably the one who had the key to fit its lock. But immediately, the locked steel cylinder had been tugged by Asia, as if trying to remove it from the girl's collar. Curiousity blazed in her eyes that suggested an immoral desire to pry into the secret things of others. It made me wonder about the scruples of people, where I had never wondered before. And with just as much immediacy, the man Ven began to volley the idea of picking its lock aloud with Asia. Her protests were vague, and while she left, seemingly to wash her hands and absolve herself of this little crime... she did nothing at all to protect those locked contents from being tampered with. Pried into. And eventually stolen.

I know who the other Arian is. So does Asia. So do all the kajirae in her House, except for Eta. I do not rightly know what Eta knows. She is a quiet girl, who no longer has a steel message cylinder affixed to her collar. It, along with whatever contents it bore, are now missing.

I do not want to be party to thefts or any knowledge of such. And I fear for Eta's safety, for I know what it is to be pressed for testimony, tortured to extremes to ensure that every last detail of truth and memory is disclosed. No... I do not wish this for Eta. I know that Xarika can be a cruel and exacting woman. Too, I can only imagine the contents of the tube so important that they were locked.

Return to Thanta Isle

Within a few hands, Eta and I arrived on Thanta Island. For me, it had been much sooner than anticipated, following my tragically dashed plans to travel to the ends of the world and back with Circé of the House Veneficus. As much as I had once dreaded being alone in Ar, I now reminesce the bustling insides of her glorious walls with a certain fondness.

It was not to be the first time that I entered the Silk & Leather Auction House, hand in hand with an unknown kajira. But I had come to think of Eta as mine own over the past couple hands' journey. Asia too, seemed rather pleased that I had returned, and I wonder if she ever suspected that I might not have returned at all. For I loved the taste of freedom on the back of my tongue.

I loved that I could do and think and say as I pleased, without any sort of expectation or reprimand. I loved that I could, on my own and without Marius nearby to instruct, shake the hand of a powerful man like Agamemnon Sarce and look him right in the eye. I loved that my name was upon the tongues of many an Arian, and that I was not in the shadow of my Master's celebrity.

For the first time in my entire life, I do not know what the future will bring, nor whether I will alter the course of it by my own will.

Eta

She claimed no name in particular as her own, but had stated to me once or twice during the long journey when queried, that she'd had hundreds of names, most of which are best not repeated in the company of free women with a tendency to fall faint with offense. And I myself, added to her growing list of monikers by giving her the fifth letter of the Gorean alphabet, for it was what had been crudely engraved upon a sealed and locked, steel message tube that was fixed upon her collar. Strangely the woman, a Tower Slave belonging to the city of Ar, had been sent to accompany me back to Cos, for the tube's intended recipient who bore its key, was rumored to be there.

Eta is a strangely beautiful woman, much darker than most of the women I know. Yet not as dark as those former Lovers of mine in Schendi. Her smile truly enchants me, forces me when I least suspect, to think about her and wonder. Never have I known a kajira full of so much joy and passion for life, as evidenced in her many stories. Stories which seem so real, I feel as if I am the central protagonist re-lived vicariously through her words. It is during her tales that I find myself reminiscent of bygone days with the Theatre Troupe... and Marius.

The kajira is a highly responsive one, soft to the touch, and often captivating to look upon. She is neither shy nor cryptic when speaking, as most women tend to be. And once again I find myself drawn to a kajira in such a way that I crave to possess her for my own. Though deep down I already know that Marius would despise her for her wretched gender.

Eta my love.. you are much too good. Much too good for the servitude of mediocrity.

Sophia Brings Enlightenment

With a guestlist more numerous than I had ever imagined, Circé's home swelled with colorfully arrayed sequinned masks hiding the faces of important people from each other, as well as myself. I did not wear a mask... for I somehow sensed that no one really cared much who I was, so long as the music was pleasant to the ear. I did not even stay until the last of them dispersed, but went off to bed fairly early in the night to ponder my own thoughts in the silence. It seems of late, that is all I do. Think. And think some more.

It was the following day however, that I had an epiphany of sorts. Circé took me to the Arena again to watch the gladatorial fights, where she enlisted my help in selecting a winner to gamble a bit of coin on.

My mind instantly dwellt upon the loser of such an outcome, and I found making such a choice much too difficult. Natural-born Gamblers, it seems, have more stout hearts and stronger stomachs... as mine forever reels back in memory of my Slink. And I can only hope she still lives and breathes, and still thinks of me.

I think too, after a very short-lived conversation between Circé and myself in her private viewing box at the Arena, that going far away on an adventure with me would somehow be detrimental to her overall reputation. It had been simply a fleeting fanciful pipedream on her part those few hands ago when I had first arrived at House Veneficus. For Sophia has whispered sweetly her imparted wisdom to me, that some things are best forgotten and laid to rest. Never to be resurrected. This, my Epiphany:

Circé had a dream.
From which she has since awakened.

Ar

She is neither small nor easily accessible. Her fortresses are easily intimidating as are her scrutinous assessements before granting permission to approach. Initially one must look upon her with an open mind and an appraising eye, otherwise she is repelling in nature. Do you think I speak of a city? Think again.

But I will say something regarding a city.. Ar, to be precise.. I am glad I came on this recent journey. For I have learned as much about her as I have about myself. Ar is resplendant with gardens and thoroughfares, all neatly arrayed in a colorful grid that is rather fascinating to discover. The Garden District overlooks all others, which is also of curious interest.

Beyond the city are vast swamps. And in those swamps, spiders. Not the ordinary house and garden variety, but the large kind that speak with words men can understand. I do not think that many of the citizens cloistered within Ar's walls are aware of these monstrous, talking spiders known as The Spider People. No, they are far too absorbed within their everyday lives to give much heed to the vast world that lies beyond the city's gates.

But enough of that however. It was inside the city that I met a woman in chains. Heavy chains meant to keep her subdued. She granted to me permission to approach and speak with her, even though I had not asked these things of her aloud. She touched my hair and my face with her hands. Hands that seemed to have been oft washed in the harsh lye soaps. She spoke in whispers that frequently caused her throat to constrict with coughing spells. Whispers that cut to the quick, and in them I heard the beautiful dulcet notes of a musical aria that begged to be recreated upon the belly of my Kalika.

This uncomposed melody that plays its unending loop inside of my head each time I see her, I have aptly titled..

Slink

Small Talk

I was startled by Circés arrival, for I had been lost in a whirlwind of thought and deafening silence. Yet my initial fears were readily allayed when she offered me Ka-la-na to drink. Further, the subject of small talk was not upon my whereabouts for the past hand, but rather upon her own trials and tribulations in dealing with her father and an assortment of potential suitors.

Circé expressed to me a rather vivid image of herself, in which she is quite the shrew. And too, a fond reminiscence of bygone years in which her father encouraged her to a spirit of adventurism. It would seem that upon coming of age, a girl of wealth and means is expected to put away all such foolish notions and embrace the cloistered existance of a societal debutante, in the hopes of capturing one of the City's eligible suitors as legal companion.

Needless to say, I have forgotten my own heartbreak in deference to hers. Yet we have conspired between us, Circé and I, to run away on one last high adventure right after the upcoming concert.

House Veneficus

The walk back to House Veneficus was indeed long and terrifying. I've nothing left here in Ar to fall back on, save my own laurels... which are quite unknown in this strange city so far from Marius' island home on Cos.

Upon reaching the gates that stood like cold iron sentinels before the estate, I stood there on the outside looking in for perhaps two ahn before one of the guardsmen assigned to patrolling the grounds spotted me.

Fortunately I was not grilled too severely, for when he recognized the instrument case strapped to my back over my left shoulder, he hurriedly ushered me inside, escorted me to the house and allowed me entrance. Once again, I was abandoned.

The house is perhaps the largest I have ever seen. It gives me the sensation of being swallowed whole inside of a gilded mausoleum. And what felt to be perhaps the space of another two ahn, I remained there in the grande hall near the entrance, merely gazing out of one of the large picture windows with no more hope of escape.

My eyes are dry, and I am too overwhelmed and exhausted to weep any further tears. I merely await my doom.