CHAPTER ONE

A dog that bites never bares his teeth…

Vizier Kemal Ahmed’s Palace, Amasya Turkey

September 1580

     Zeundi, also known as ‘the Panther’, prostrated herself before her master, Vizier Kemal Ahmed, and awaited his decree.

     “You have failed to return my son and heir to me, Zeundi.   What say you of this accusation?”

“Greatest Lord Ahmed, I admit I have failed in my mission to keep Prince Kasir safely within the walls of the palace.”  Her melodious speaking voice resounded through the chambers despite her submissive position.  “I have searched far and beyond for months and there are no traces of Prince Kasir to be found.  I admit defeat and I am here to accept the punishment you deem fitting for my failure.”

“You are not some lacking Nubian slave girl who does not know her wit from her ass.  Stand and face me like the Royal Koruma, guard, you are.”  The Vizier’s deep voice beckoned.

Standing, Zeundi straightened her shoulders into her usual prideful stance with her head held high.  However, her eyes remained downcast from looking her current master directly in the eye as protocol required.

“Explain to me, Koruma Zeundi, how one that was reared by the unyielding hand of Lady Chiyome fail such a simple task?”  He leaned forward in his chair of golden painted wood and blue velvet upholstery. 

“Forgive me Great Lord Ahmed for speaking so bluntly; but, guarding Prince Kasir has by no means been a simple task.” 

“You have served my needs well in the past.  What has changed?  Why have you failed me?” 

Her unusual olive colored eyes looked to the left shoulder of the older man's aged weathered face respectfully.  “As you know, Great Ahmed, I have laid down my life to protect your son as it is my duty to do so, however I cannot protect Prince Kasir if he does not wish to be protected,” she said truthfully.

The Vizier released a long sigh, nodding his head in agreement.   “Though that is true Koruma Zeundi, if you cannot protect my heir I have no use of one as dangerously skillful as you are in my household.”  His wrinkled heavily jeweled brown fingers stroked his graying long beard.  “You know what this entails?

She nodded her head; her expression remained unchanged.

“Zeundi,” Ahmed called her name.  His voice became low and somber.  “Look at me.”

She did as she was ordered.

“You and I both knows what happens to your kind once you have outlived your usefulness, do we not?”

“Yes, we do, Great Ahmed.”

“To be sure that you understand what you are doing by admitting your failure to return my son to me, tell me what is to happen to you, Zeundi.”

“I am to be put to death and the and the red eyes of the panther that is forever marked upon my back is to be skinned from my back and delivered to my old master Lady Chiyome as proof of my death,” she spoke clearly.

Ahmed couldn’t help but admire her.  Any lesser woman or man would have been groveling for understanding and forgiveness.  Not the proud Nubian Zeundi, she stood before him ready to face her death the same way he saw her face each day of her life.  He wondered why she had returned to receive her punishment.  She could have spent years using the search for his son as an excuse to prolong her life, or she could have easily escaped his men and sent forced them to hunt her down, but she did none of those.  Why?

“I do not wish to take your life Zeundi for if anyone can find my son you can and time is imperative.  The palace physicians have determined my remaining time upon this earth is waning.  It is important that Kasir takes his place before I die.”

“Great Ahmed,” She managed to reply through stiff lips. “Prince Kasir is unwilling to change his actions against his people.  His behavior is not to be condoned as acceptable.”   Zeundi spoke honestly.

“Do not speak to me thus!  You are in no position to tell ME, your master, what you will and will not put up with, Koruma Zeundi!”  Ahmed slammed his fist down on the arm of his chair.  “Kasir has failed to become my successor because of all the negative rumors that has hounded him over the past few years.”

“It tis more than rumors, Great One,” Zeundi spoke her thoughts aloud.

“Even though may be so.  It is too late for me to find another heir.  I have vested much into assuring Sultan Mohammed IV will approve my bid for Kasir to take the seat of Eastern Anatolia, once the current Emir in office succumbs to his fate.”  Ahmed stated.  He had already dispatched assassins to assure the seat would become readily available for his son so that he could leave for Amasya as soon as possible.

He continued, “As long as the prince remains after the announcement the new Vizier will do as I did in the past.  He will kill Kasir for fear of an uprising of the people who seek to place my son to rule in this territory at the Sultan’s side.”

“If Kara Mustafa becomes the next Great Vizier he will hear the protesting cries of the people of Amasya and realize that Prince Kasir is not a threat to his position as Vizier.” Zeundi boldly corrected.  “He will know that the prince is actually a threat to the people of Amasya into which I assure you, Great Ahmed, any ruler blessed in the name of the prophet would find it wise to kill your son for his crimes against his people and the teaching of his God.”

“Hamal kiz, slave girl,” Ahmed hissed.  “There are times I seek your blunt honesty, but this is not one of them.  Just because you have made up your mind to die Zeundi, it does not mean I could not make the last moments of your death and those that serve you in your quarters merciless.”

Zeundi bit down hard on her back teeth to keep from saying the words that should be said.  She knew exactly where Prince Kasir resided but to tell his father would mean death to many and she had already agreed to take the fall to save the innocent.

“I can see it in your eye that there is something you are keeping from me Zeundi.  Do you truly wish this much for death?”

 Ahmed pulled in a deep breath and wheezed.  His bloated body became racked with spasms and coughs causing his personal Koruma to rush forward and press a piece of black cloth to his mouth.   Black material was chosen to hide the fact that the Vizier was coughing up blood, but it was no longer necessary for now it was a known fact the old Vizier was dying.

“I am not afraid to die, Great Ahmed,” she reminded.  “There are worse things than death.”  Guarding your son is one of them, she thought to herself.

“This I know.  However what I can do is summons to have your beast one by one, starting with your personal companion beast Sheba, slaughtered.”

Zeundi’s breath caught in throat.  “Affedersiniz, forgive me, Great Ahmed.  I bid thee a thousand blessings upon your divine name and may Allah bless you with a longer life,” Zeundi proclaimed.  “I beg you not to fault the brute beasts of the earth for my behavior.”

As expected she touched her middle and forefinger to her forehead, lips, and heart with a slight bow while adding a silent prayer that Allah would forgive her for asking for blessings upon a man she truly felt no loyalty to.

“I knew that would gain your attention,” Ahmed said with a stroke of his beard.  Pleased that he still had the upper hand, even over one as dangerous as the woman that stood before him.

“As you love your pet panthers Zeundi, I feel the same protectiveness of my son.  If I die before he returns he will return to sure death,” he wheezed.  “If Prince Kasir is safely returned to me, I will grant you and those that serve you, along with the beasts their freedom upon my death.”

Zeundi judgmentally eyed the aging and ill Kemal Ahmed while she mulled over his offer, even though she knew it was impossible to grant his wish.  Personally, she found him a miserably inadequate figure of a man even when he was of good health.  This man held high power and was very dangerous.  He spent years scheming and endearing himself to the Sultan’s weaknesses for finely bred horses and exceptional hunting falcons by breeding both. 

Sultan Mehmed IV had only been seven when he had gained the throne and because of his youth the power fell into the hands of his Grand Viziers.  Now the Sultan was a man grown of forty-eight years and still he didn’t have the heart of a ruler.  He was a simple man, with simple pleasures, and he spent most of his time away on hunting expeditions from the intrigue of his royal court.   Because of that the Vizier was allowed to continue ruling with the aided favors of Valide Sultan Hadice Turhan, the mother of the reigning sultan.

Though none would call Kemal Ahmed an attractive man with his current stooped shoulders and bloated appearance; his menacing height and hawkish features had once been well-favored.  During his youth it was rumored he and the Valide had been secret lovers after her husband died. 

But if Zeundi were to make a guess she would say his health issues were due to his indulgent behavior.  Ahmed was excessive about everything; never one for accepting a refusal of his wishes.  His notably lustful and avarice appetites consist of women, power and an unending compulsion to drink too much wine. 

Ahmed’s harem at last count had over five-hundred concubines in resident and another two hundred female slaves and three-hundred Black Eunuchs to attend them.  Continuously he ordered his army to drag children from their families to begin their training as future Korumas for the palace, Eunuchs for the harem and troops for his ever growing army that was needed to protect the palaces along the Bosphorus, Istanbul straits.  

The Vizier’s coffers were guarded by a family of panthers and tigers Zeundi had trained herself and inside the underground cave vault there were gold, silver, and valuable relics of antiquity to be found.   Ahmed hadn’t been forced to part with any of his wealth when Sultan Mehmed IV called for his courtiers’ treasures to pay for his costly hunting expeditions.

Ahmed’s brutality was well known and all with the approval of a distrustful imperium that was quickly losing the respect of its people.  Unscrupulously he sent Janissaries out to the local Bedouin tribes to murder the adults and enslave their children in order to seize their squatter’s land.

Zeundi felt these people that suffered at Ahmed’s hands were her own for she had been born in this area to a Nubian enslaved mother and an unknown father. She didn’t remember any of her childhood before Lady Chiyome.  She had been told she was no more than five winters old when scared and in chains she arrived to her first remembered master, Lady Chiyome.

For the first five years in her new home in the Nazu Village of Japan, she lived as a child learning languages and doing physical activities and she was happy; until it all changed.  On her tenth birthday her new master renamed her Zeundi and explained the course of what her life was about to become. 

If Zeundi had any doubts about her new role it was dashed when her training as an assassin and a courtesan began with a witnessed rape ordered by the Japanese woman she’d come to think of as her ‘mother’. 

Lade Chiyome Mochizuki gave her and three other girls to the General and his troops.  They abused her body until a transcendent most welcoming numbness overcame her mind, body and spirit.  It announced the end to her childhood.

After she and the other three girls survived their ordeal their sisterhood grew into an unbreakable bond as they grew older and stronger.  They also learned the key for survival was to obey their master, Lady Chiyome.  In their common misery she, Sauda, Eman and Ntombi grew into an unstoppable team of assassins, kunoichi.

As a kunoichi, female assassin, she became skilled at tracking, disguises, poisons, explosive powders, blades, and of course…seduction.  From the time Zeundi had obtain her skills as an assassin, even as roll as slave to master didn’t keep her from the pride that came with her awareness that she was a skilled killer. 

She also discovered she had a way with wild cats, bringing her master to code name her Kurohyou, Black Panther.  In Japan Zeundi had been praised and revered for her abilities.  Since arriving in Amasya under the hand of her new master, she had been demoted to the mundane duties of watching over a useless excuse of a man.

At first Zeundi thought it was a blessing Lady Chiyome sold her to Vizier Ahmed, for it meant she was allowed to live; however, the past years as Prince Kasir’s personal guardian she had witness and covered up deeds that made her wish a thousand times that she had died the day she was sold away from the only home she’d known. 

She had no respect for her masters.  She had thought she had witness everything there was to see, but even she had her limits to what she could ignore. The depraved nature of the Prince was one that even she could not condone and because of it, it was not possible for her life to be spared for the sake of his return.

“I cannot return Prince Kasir to you, Great Lord Ahmed,” she finally spoke.

The burly soldat, soldier, standing guard next to the Vizier stepped forward with scepter poised for a strike when Ahmed held up his hand to halt his movement.

“Subside Abu; the Zeundi will kill you before your weapon descends a blow.  If the Kurohyou is to die, she must do so willingly or I will lose many men before she is brought to heel.  Isn’t that correct?”

“Hawa, yes, Great One,” she inclined her head in agreement.  Zeundi’s olive colored eyes never left Abu’s face.  She didn’t trust him and he greatly disliked her because she had held the Viziers respect in her abilities as a Royal KorumaGormak all these years while he continued to struggle in the ranks as a simple soldat, soldier.

“Since you refuse to find my son, you leave me no choice,” Ahmed said.  He sadly shook his jeweled turbaned head.

“I await your will.”

“Zeundi, you are a magnificent and you have brought great pride and excitement to this old heart.  I pray to Allah that you change your mind or that my son returns in time to save you from your fate.”

“Thank you, Grand Ahmed, however I fear my death is decided.” 

“May I ask one thing of you?”

“Until my last breath I am yours,” she voiced solemnly.

Ahmed let out a long labored breath.  “Allow me to witness your fighting abilities one last time in the arena.”

“Will this be a fight to the death or entertainment only, Great One?”

“Is there a difference?” He cocked a bushy eyebrow.  Smiling, he ordered, “Do your best and make a clean kill, however do not be hasty.  I bid you give us a good final show, Zeundi.”

“I shall do my best,” Zeundi assured in a matter-of-fact tone.  “Mayhap, Soldat Abu would like to do the honor,” she suggested eyeing the tall and broad shoulder Turk.

“You wish that Abu be the one to kill you if you succeed the match?”  Ahmed asked.

“I am asking if Abu would like to fight me to be my opponent in the battle to the death.”

“I do not wish to lose both my strongest opponents in one day, Zeundi.”

“Please allow me, Great Ahmed,” Abu spoke up.  “I know I can handle this mere woman.”

“Abu have you already forgotten my warning?”  Ahmed asked.  “Are you infidel?  If this was a mere woman we were dealing with you think I would be gaining her honorable word to participate in her demise?”

“Affedersiniz, forgive me.  I did not mean to speak out of turn, Great Ahmed,” Abu murmured. 

Ahmed could only nod.  His body shook with a seizure of coughs and Abu rushed forward.  Instead of allowing Abu to care for him, he motioned for and accepted the black cloth into his hand to hold it against his mouth until the attack subsided.

Leaning forward his voice was almost a graveled whisper. “Zeundi, because of your immense accomplishments I know that if you so wish to fight for your life and escape your fate you will undoubtedly succeed against my men.  Or at the very least I will lose the few remaining soldat I have protecting my home that is not on campaign for the Sultan.”  More coughs.  “Heed my warning, Kurohyou, Black Panther, if you choose to betray me.  All of the precious beast you covet more then human life, will be slaughtered.”

Zeundi felt a cold twisting feeling in her stomach. For the first time concern appeared in her eyes and she could see by Ahmed’s satisfied sneer he found pleasure in her fear.

Ahmed bloated frame dropped back against the cushions in satisfaction.  Never had he met a woman that was as wild and intriguing as the cats she trained and coveted.  If he had been a younger man when he obtained such a prize as Zeundi, he would have made her his concubine.   It was why he had made her his son’s private bodyguard.  However, even Zeundi skilled charms and beautiful face and lithe boyish figure didn’t sway his son from his perversions.

Ahmed regretted ending the life of one as competent as Zeundi, but she left him no choice.  If it got out that he had let her get away with such insubordinate behavior he’d lose control of his station and all he hoped to pass on to his son before his death.  She had to die so that others would see even amongst his favorites he would bear no tolerance for failure.   

“I give you my word, Great Ahmed.”  Zeundi broke the sudden silence.  “I ask that you do the same and allow me to go in peace knowing that my assistant, Hagee will continue caring for my felines.”

“Agreed.” he leaned back against the pillows at his back.  “Is there something else you would ask of me?”

“My feline companion Sheba will be inconsolable without me to tend to her and she does not accept food from another’s hands.  She I will take with me into the netherworld.”

“Go prepare yourself for the arena Koruma Zeundi.  You will fight when the sun kisses midday.”  He pursed his lips with pensive thoughts and added, “If you change your mind about finding my son, it is not too late to save yourself.”

“Very well, Great Ahmed, however it’s not possible.”

“Leave me!” He barked in disgust triggering another round of coughs.

She touched her forehead, lips, and heart before backing formally away from her master with head bowed until she put a proper distance between them.  Lifting her head she readjusted the yasmak, consisting of two pieces of fine white muslin covering her head; the upper piece was tied around her forehead and the lower piece draped over one shoulder.

Turning Zeundi sauntered from the Vizier’s private quarters deciding to meditate and make peace with Allah before preparing physically to give the blood thirsty crowd one last performance before succumbing to her fate.

ZZZ

The roar of voices, barking of dogs and the stench of human occupancy were almost overbearing in the arid region heat. Sir Lucian Gilbert bejeweled and in guise as a traveling merchant held a perfumed scented handkerchief to his nostrils to keep from gagging as he passed a legless beggar sitting in his own feces.

Turban adorned men and petite women shrouded in voluminous black with kohl lined eyes babbled in their native tongue and giggling while casting subtle glances of interest as they passed.   Focused on his mission to gain an audience with Vizier Ahmed, he barely spared them a glance.

It seemed as if he’d spent a lifetime preparing to return to this cursed country.  During his last stay he allowed his blinding desire to find his mother during an important mission for the Secret Service of Queen Elizabeth’s Court to overrule his senses; because of it, his closest friend Lord Ethan Clare was the one that had suffered for his carelessness.

Turkish soldiers molested, and tortured his friend to near death before releasing him for a momentous amount of gold.  Lucian knew Ethan wanted to return with him, but he was thankful that he was alone.  This time he didn’t have to worry over others; nor would he ask anyone else to risk their lives for the sake of gaining peace about the circumstances that surrounded his birth.  He would never discover who his father is if he couldn’t find his mother.

Even if he were to manage to speak with the Vizier he had to walk lightly over the subject matter of his missing mother for the ostentatious ass had the Sultan in his pocket.  If he couldn’t get an audience with the Vizier, he would never get to the valide sultan, Hadice Turhan.   Valide Hadice was the one person that would know what happened to his mother.   

Also Lucian couldn’t chance to have his ship confiscated with its precious cargo of precious jewels, silver, and gold he amassed over the years in hopes of bartering his mother’s freedom if she is still alive.

As the Amasya territory councilman, Ahmed's greediness was well known.  He has been involved in countless extortion plots and acts of corruption against his own citizens. Vizier Ahmed was also known for bargaining secretly with foreign and local representatives and in return he could guarantee an immediate audience with the Sultan. 

It was this bribable behavior Lucian was counting on to get an audience with the Sultan. 

With certainty in each step, Lucian blended in with the locals and followed the flow of the majority.  There was some big event scheduled up ahead and whatever it was, it was important enough to bring out the dregs of Amasya to witness it.  At this snails’ pace he wondered if he would make it to the palace before the palace closed to visiting merchants bearing gifts.

Lucian cursed aloud as a young boy plowed into him.  Instinctively his hand went to the gold laden money pouch resting against his hip, just in time to feel the young boy attempting to cut the cord tied to his dagger belt.

“Essoglu esek, son of a donkey!”  Lucian growled in flawless Turkish as he caught the small hand that held the small dirk.  Angrily he twisted the boy’s hand with his until the blade hit the ground. 

The scrap of a boy actually started pounding at him with his balled up fist.  Lucian would have found his efforts comical if he hadn’t received a well-placed kick to his booted shin.

“It would serve you right if I used that dull blade and cut your fingers off as a reminder of your foolishness.”  The child kicked him again.  “Ulan!  Look here, that is enough!”  Lucian yelped and shook the boy until he stopped struggling.

The boy’s dark eyes were as wide as clay-pots staring up at him.  The instant look of fear that showed on his face startled Lucian.

“Forgive me, Good Prince Kasir, I did not know it was you!  I beg you! Do not order my death!”  He pleaded as he dropped to his knees with Lucian still holding onto his thin wrists.  

Lucian’s angry frown deepened with his revelation.  Who did he think he was?  Prince Kasir?  He thinks I’m the Vizier’s son?  Why?

“Praise to…to Allah…and Mohammad, His Prophet, for you! The most exalted Prince of all Princely kingdoms under the sun.   You Prince Kasir are kind of heart and most blessed.  If you spare this poor boy born of camel’s dung…”

“Quiet yourself.”

 “You must allow me to live, Master.  I steal money only to feed my starving family!  Benimle sevismek ister misin?  You may use my body.  You may--” 

“Enough!  I have no desire to have sex with you!  You are just a child, a boy child, I remind thee!  How do you even know of such things?”  Lucian balked at the absurdity of the boy’s wailings.

ord, Lord Prince.  In exchange for my life I will gladly become one of your boy concubines and serve you well!” The child continued to wail.

Boy concubine?  Lucian found the thought very distasteful.  Releasing a long sigh he realized his reasoning with the boy wasn’t working and he was drawing attention from those around them.  He had to try another tactic. 

“Rise from your knees boy and tell me your name.”  He ordered in his most princely voice while releasing his grip on his wrists.  Maybe he could use this mistaking of his identity to gain some useful information.

Swiftly the child came up on his bare dirty feet. A glimpse of startling white teeth appeared as his face split into a grin.  At least his teeth appeared white in comparison to the dark griminess of his youthful face.

“Rahim, but my family calls me Ram.”

“Ram, I think I will have use for you after all.”  Lucian eyed him from his black curly hair dusted a sandy brown from lack of daily cleaning in the dusty elements.

“You do?” Ram croaked.

“Would you care to turn an honest coin, by servicing my needs?”

 “I care very much and I know I should be honored that you have chosen me to…to…err…service you, Prince Kasir…but…”

Ram looked down at his feet, his toe kicking at the dirt.

Lucian scowled wondering what was bothering the child and obviously the child was thinking it was something this ‘Prince Kasir’ person wouldn’t like hearing, making him hesitant to speak frankly.

Lucian softened his tone and asked.  “What is on your mind, Rahim?  If we are to work together don’t you believe we should be able to speak our minds and trust one another?”

“Yes, Master.  However, I have never…let any man…well you know--”

“No I do not know.  Just say it, boy.”

“Well, I have heard tales that may be tall.  But I have heard it said none the less and I don’t know if it is true.”

“Come about, Ram,” Lucian sighed.  Growing impatient he added, “I do not have all day.  What rumors have you heard about…Prince Kasir?”

“Master, you do not want me!”  He began to well as he had done earlier.  “I do not want to give you my body!  He dropped to his knees once more clasping his hands together as if he was praying.  “I know you do not want an ugly, filthy, and mangy runt sheep’s dung like me in your silken bed.”

Lucian was too stunned for a speedy reply.  A feeling of panic arose in his throat as those around him stopped to stare.  Obviously all was beginning to think he was Prince Kasir for they were whispering and point amongst themselves.

Even a few of the unfamiliar faces he stared into looked at him as if he had spouted a second nose.

“A pox to the lot of you, worrisome coxcombs gapping at me as if I am all the infection that a leech sucks from a horse’s ass,” Lucian murmured in his native language.

He wished he’d let the idiot child go forward to his next quarry and went on about his business.  By and by it was too late now.

“I do not want to be your sex slave!”  Ram cried, genuine tears streaking his dirty face.

“What are you saying?  That is not true!”  Lucian laps back into the Turkish language shaking his head in denial.  He tried to peel the boy’s arms from about his leg as he latched on when he tried to move away.

“I want to work for my Lord Prince, but I am too unclean for you to bugger my ass,” Ram rallied.

Lucian could hear heckling and stirring from the crowd as they called out Prince Kasir’s name.  Obviously the man wasn’t a likable to anyone in Amasya.

“I will care for your fine garments; taste your meals to assure no poison is in the contents.  I will even wipe your ass with my unworthy hands, Master.  Just do not stick your thing in my ass!”  Ram went on staring about him.   The more sympathy he got from the onlookers the more dramatic he became.

“My thing?  God’s blood!”  Lucian’s face grew ruddy with embarrassment.  He held up his hand above his head.  “I have not touched this boy.”  Clearing his throat he called out, “Please, everyone go about your business, there is nothing to see here.” 

The crowd hesitated and lingered staring at the distraught boy.   Lucian knew as long as the boy was putting on the performance of his life, they would remain.  So he resorted to his princely voice once more.

“Go, before all of you are imprisoned for aiding this thief!” 

Seeing how the crowd scattered, he wished he had thought to threaten them long before now.  The damage had already been done.  He would have to change his appearance in some way if he looked so similar to the prince when dressed as a Italian merchant.

“Quiet down all that squalling, runt!” he hissed grasping the boy harshly by the shoulders until he unhandled him.  Lucian then drew him up off the ground holding him under his arm pits until they were nose to nose. 

“Rahim,” Lucian cursed in disgust.  “I cannot believe you would think such a thing of me.  I was trying to be kind and you repay my kindness with an insult?  I do not know what devices this Prince Kasir has but I do not have any intentions to do such a sick and vile thing.”  Bile arose in the back of his throat at the very thought of such an action.  “I was offering you a job to show me about and run errands for me when I cannot do so myself.”

The boy looked up with dark wide innocent eyes, and Lucian felt his heart go out to him.  Maybe his distress was sincere and not some ploy after all.  He’d crossed paths with such lover of boys, and it was a vile feeling to be mistaken for one of them.

“Forgive me, Grand Prince.  But I do not believe you are not Prince Kasir.  Have you been in the sun too long, or mayhap been thrown from a horse and hit your head?”

 With a soft curse, he grasped the boy by his arms pulling him upward off his knees as he straightened.  Without another word, he half walk and half carried the whimpering youth next to a market stand and out of the main walkway. 

“I will not repeat myself.  Firstly, I will not harm you.  Well, an occasional boxing of your ears…but, it will be for your own good.”  He shook him lightly to emphasize his statement.  “Secondly, if you vow your loyalty to me, I will make sure your family has food, and also pay you wages to guide me.”  Murmuring in English he added, “You can be sure your bottom is safe from me, boy.”

“Bilmiyorum, I don’t understand,” Ram looked up at him in confusion.

“Not important.”

“I shall follow you to the ends of the earth for continued wages, Prince Kasir.”  Ram stated with a wide smile. His small shoulders drew back with burgeoning confidence as he declared, “Prince Kasir, Exalted One, I will even allow you my body to do your will if it will feed my sisters and brothers.  I am the eldest, you see.”

Lucian rolled his eyes heavenward and released a silent prayer for patience.  He smiled down at the boy and felt pride.  Since finding out Ethan was going to be a father with Sauda his thoughts had been straying to wife and children of his own.  Could it be possible?  What if finding out about his father proves to be reasoning for not having children of his own.

He wondered how he could be a good father when he never had a good role model.  What if he grew tired of the family life and abandons his son to his fate as his father had obviously done to him?   

One of the things he needed to do at this moment was convincing the boy that he wasn’t this Prince Kasir and he wasn’t in the least bit interested in molesting him.

“It is good of you to be brave enough to go to extreme extents for your family, Ram and that is what I am looking for in an apprentice.  What I am about to tell you must strictly remain between you and I.  I will not hire you unless I know I have your complete loyalty.”

“I promise I will take all that you tell me to my grave or may you cut out my tongue to keep me from telling,” the boy declared with melodramatic steadfastness.

Lucian shook his head. “Let’s hope we don’t have to go that far.  Just keep in mind; if you wish to earn a gold coin you will remain loyal.”

“Gold you say,” Ram repeated in hush tones.  He bobbed his head in agreement.

“Ram, I am truly not Prince Kasir.”

“By Allah’s blood!  You look like Prince Kasir.”

  “I am a merchant from Italy.  My name is Luciano Gilberto,” he lied smoothly. 

It was not the full truth, but not a complete falsehood either. It was a history and a persona he had been building for over ten years while working in the Queen’s Secret Service.   A simple manipulation of his name and a fictional life based on his profession outside the military service.  It was a necessity in order to move about and complete missions in places born Englishmen were not welcomed.

“How can this be that you look so much like the prince?  Yet you say you are not born of his blood?”  Ram asked.

“I have not seen the prince, so I cannot say that I look like him, but apparently it is close enough resemblance that you and others believe me to be him.”

Ram’s dark brown eyes narrowed, “What form of trickery is this?”  He demanded placing his fists on his slim hips.  “Are you saying this so you can pay me less?  Siktir!”

“Where did you learn such language?”  Lucian boxed his ears as promised.  “I have not even told you how much I will pay you!  You know it is not too late to resend my offer.  I thought you wanted to work to feed your starving family.”

“I do,” Ram pouted.  He rubbed the sides of his head and ears. “Ow, that hurts.”

“You are probably not only a thief but a liar too,” Lucian accused.  “Just be on your way, you ungrateful runt.” 

“I do not lie!”

Lucian crossed his arms over his chest and scoffed.   “Never?”

“Well, I…I lie when I must,” Ram admitted.

“Of course you do.  Everyone does.  Now, I think you should apologize for your offensive use of language.”  Lucian lifted a dark eyebrow, his piercing gray eyes narrowing in final warning.   “Right now, or move on to your next victim.”

Rams pouted and his shoulders dropped a yielding sigh.  “Bir, I am sorry I said…siktir, fuck you. I will hold my tongue with my fingers if I have to, Master.”

“If you do not then I will it out for you and place it between your fingers myself.”  Lucian chuckled and mussed the boy’s unwashed hair. 

 “You did not have to hit me,” Ram pointed out.

“I am sure it will not be the last time.”  Lucian promised.  “Now that you know I am a lowborn merchant do you still want the work or not?”

“Depends,” the little snip had the nerve to say.

“On what, pray tell.”

“Are you a rich merchant or a poor one?” 

Lucian chuckled at the boy’s arrogant posture.  His thin arms crossed about his chest as if he was in charge of this deal. 

“I do well enough.  Albeit, if you do not think it is good enough for you, than you can keep thieving until you lose your hands to someone not as kind as I am. Iyi aksamlar, good evening, Genc Efendim, Young Sir.”  Lucian turned on his booted feet and left the boy standing there.

“Where are you going?  I might know a way to get there quicker instead of walking through the square.”  Ram stated as he walked and ran to keep up with Lucian’s long strides.

Lucian glanced down at his new companion.  “I need to get to the palace before the gate closes to all merchants.”

“I can get you there faster, but it will not close until late this day.” 

Lucian stopped.  “What is different about today?”

“There is a special event in the Vizier’s arena.  That is why it is busier than usual.  It will be a good day for the merchants to peddle your wares.  What do you sell?”

“Also, a good day for you to pinch bulging coin pouches.”  Lucian teasingly replied ignored his question.

Ram grinned.  “That is why I know everything that is happening.  This would have been a good day if your hands hadn’t been quicker than my own.  You don’t move like any merchant I’ve known.”

“I do not wish to get fat and lazy as many in my profession, so I keep my wits about me.”

“Do you know how to use that dagger at your waist?”

“I do.”

“Can you teach me?”

“Only if your intent is to change your life around to be helpful instead of pouring hardships onto others in order to lighten your own,” Lucian reasoned.

“I will not be your servant.  I’ll be your apprentice and you shall teach me,” Ram announced with a nodded of his head.

“Then as my apprentice it will serve you to remember I never say things I don’t mean. Also, don’t let me have to tell you my will, more than once.  Do we understand one another?”

“Evet, but I don’t want to disappoint you, Master.  Are you sure I can do the job?”

 Lucian smiled.  “Of course I’m sure.  Any boy that can almost relieve me of my money pouch is skilled indeed and brave.”   In spite of his occasional show of bravado, Ram was still just a boy and has all of the same doubts and fears.    “By the way how old are you?”

“Seven seasons, Master.”

“Then you have plenty of time to learn how to be a righteous man and bring honor to your family, Rahim.”  Lucian assured him.

“About that,” Ram looked down at his feet.  “I do not really have a family.  I live with a family that forces me to steal so that I may have a roof over my head.”

“I see.”  Lucian lips pursed in thought.  “So if you do not take something back to this family this night, you have no home to return to?”

Ram nodded.

“No worries.  You are my apprentice and an apprentice must attend their master at all times.  So of course that means you go where I go.”

“Evet, Master Luciano, I shall be better than the Sultan’s best slave.  You shall see.  I promise I will be loyal till my death.”

“No need.  If you remain loyal to me until the end of this journey it shall be enough for I will not be staying here any longer then I must.  Save your earnings so that you can care for yourself when I am gone.”  Lucian stated already feeling a mite homesick for laughter and mead with his friend Ethan while swapping tales of adventures with Ethan’s new bride about her and her assassin sisters.

“Maybe, if I do really well, I can go too!”

“We shall see.  For now seeing how the outer gates will remain open until, how about we get you bathed with some new garments to fit your new station?”

“Evet, Master!”

“By and by what is this special event you speak of happening this evening?”

“Koruma Zeundi, Prince Kasir’s bodyguard, is to put on a final sparring match against prisoners before she is executed.”

Lucian forehead creased in a frown.  “She, you say?  Is she battling other female prisoners?”

“Zeundi fight only men.  You should see her and she has a pet that fights along her side!”  He spoke excitedly.  “I do not know any kadin, woman that is as great a fighter as she.”

“My friend, Sauda, is such a woman; and from the tales she’s told there are at least three more women that I know of that could take on men in a fight,” Lucian confided.

By the dancing lights of excitement glinting in Rahim’s eyes Lucian could see he had impressed him.  He grinned. 

“You will tell me these tales, Master?”  The young boy nodded trotting to keep up with Lucian’s long strides.

“If you work hard and follow directions well, we will see,” Lucian bargained.  “What else do you know about this Guardian Zeundi, Ram?”

 “I spoke to her once or rather she boxed my ears for sneaking into the arena without paying.  She was on her way to the arena when I accidentally ran into her as I was sneaking inside.  Then her giant Eunuch kole, slave wrapped his huge hand about my scrawny neck and squeezed!”  He said excitedly with his small hand animatedly demonstrating the ordeal.  “He shook me until my teeth rattled.  I thought the kole would break my neck and with one hand!”

“I bet you were frightened.”

“Sicip sivamak, I nearly shit on myself,” Ram colorfully regaled and grinned sheepishly up as Lucian’s eyes narrowed on his face in a warning stare.

“We must work on your language too, it seems Rahim.”

“Evet, yes, Master!”   Ram nodded.  “I must be the best apprentice.  I will be so good that you cannot do anything without me.”

“Damn-all likely,” Lucian murmured.

“Huh?”  Ram paused in his walking and touched his arm.  “What is the language you speak?”

“The Queen’s English.”

“What Queen, Master?”

“It is the Tudor Queen, Elizabeth.”

“This is your queen?”

Lucian started to answer truthfully and remembered his guise. 

“Queen Elizabeth is the Queen of England and I am a merchant from Italy remember?  These are two different countries, Ram.”

Ram’s youthful face took on a serious expression.  “I hear this language often spoken in the Merchants Square.  I do believe many understand this English Queen’s language which means she must be very important.  It is good to learn this language, evet, yes?”

“If you are thinking of coming along with me, it will be very wise to learn, yes.”  Lucian started walking again towards the booth he passed earlier that had readymade clothing for children.  If Rahim worked out for him, he would have him some more garments made befitting his station. 

“You will teach me?”

“Teach you what?”

“The language of this Great Queen of England,” Ram answered.

“We will learn a few words a day, starting with evet means yes.”

“Yes!”  Ram repeated enthusiastically.

Going back to the subject that continued to plague him he asked, “You said earlier that this kadin, woman, Zeundi has ‘pets’ that fights beside her.”  Lucian frowned.  He didn’t like the path his thoughts were taking but truthfully how many women with the ability to hold their own against men existed.  He trusted more than he imagined but what if… “Ram, what type of pet has she?”

“A huge…” he spread his thin brown arms wide.  “Pars, panther.”

Lucian stopped walking.  Ram had walked at least three paces before he realized he was walking alone.

“Master,” Ram jogged back to Lucian side as he turned to go back in the direction from hence he came.  “What is it?”

“Rahim, is there another name this Koruma Zeundi is called.”

“Before she was made into the Prince’s personal guard in the fighting circle they called her--”

“Kurohyou, the Black Panther,” Lucian filled in.

“Evet! I mean, yeh-sss…Yes.  Do you know of her, Master?”

“I know that she is very special to someone who is special to me, Ram.”  Lucian answered as he rushed forward through the crowd unapologetic for rudely pushing them aside but it wasn’t long before the mottle of people parted like the red sea as he got closer to the Palace gates. 

Mostly this was done because they believed him to be Prince Kasir.  The closer he got, the more he heard the name being murmured.  Whenever he looked towards someone they averted their eyes respectfully. 

Lucian also realized Ram was breathing hard from trying to keep up, but if he was right about this and this woman was one of the ‘sisters’ Sauda spoke often about, he felt duty bound to save her.

He had no clue how he was going to accomplish this at a social gathering with soldiers around at the moment but he had to do something or he would never be able to face his best friend’s wife again.  How could he tell her he stood by and done nothing while someone that she loved was executed and he didn’t even know why.

“Ram, what crimes has this woman committed that she is to be executed for doing it?”

“Prince Kasir is missing and she is to die for not protecting him from whatever fate he has met.”

“So all of this is taking place because of this missing camel dong of a prince that no one seems to ever want to see again?”

“Yes, master.  That is true; even though Prince Kasir frightens me because all that I have heard, I would wish to see him again if it would save Koruma Zeundi.  It is said she is a friend of the people.”

“A friend of the people?”  Lucian asked.

“It is said that Kurohyou is going to her death today because she chose to accept all blame.  She is thwarting the Viziers from taking his wrath out on the people for the missing prince.”

“I do not understand the connection.  Does your village have something to do with Prince Kasir’s disappearance?”

“Ozur dilerim, I am sorry, Master. I do not know more,” he fretted.  “What can Ram do for you?”

“You can tell me all you have heard of late about this Prince Kasir.  How was his relationship with his father before he came up missing? Is it believed he was taken or did he leave the palace and has of yet failed to return?   I know much about Vizier Ahmed but unfortunately, I did not feel the need to research his son.”

Lucian hadn’t realized how much he was revealing in his words until Ram surprised him with his questions.

“Kimsin, who are you? You are like no merchant I have ever seen.  There was nothing accusing about his tone, just open curiosity.

“I will tell you all about it someday, but for now we save the woman.”

“How do we save Koruma Zeundi?”

“If the Vizier is killing the woman because of his missing son then we must let him see his son has returned home,” Lucian grinned down at Ram.

“How do we do this?”

“If you and these people think I am Prince Kaiser, then my presence should at least distract others enough for you to sneak inside the area you ran into Koruma Zeundi and tell her to escape.”

“What if it is too late and I cannot find her?”  Ram asked his voice shrieking as his fear grew.  “What if I run into the eunuch again or worst that pet cat of hers?”

“Ram, do you think you can do as I ask or not?  I will not think ill of you if you have changed your mind about being my apprentice.” 

“Hayir, no! Rahim is your learner!”  He assured Lucian before inquiring, “Tell me how to please you.  I will do it.”

“If the event has not started you will sneak in and try to find Koruma Zeundi and if it has already started, go back to calling me Prince Kasir and I need you to do that wailing façade you used on me to draw attention again once we get to the gatepost.”

He heard Ram’s gasp of surprise.  With a chuckle, he reached out and ruffled the boy’s curly hair.