CHAPTER TWO

Don’t judge the book by its appearance…

Dropping her head, Zeundi closed her eyes and said a silent prayer to whatever sprit found her worthy to be heard.  With a frustrated groan, she opened her eyes and turned her hardened gaze on her female servant.  “Yeghsa, your blubbering face is not the last thing I wish to see before I pass on to my next life.  Enough please.”

“You should have allowed me to contact your warrior sisters to come and save you.” 

“There is no time for that; besides, I do not want them risking their lives to save me.  I made a decision knowing the consequences.  If this is my providence so it shall be.”  Zeundi said in a harsh, raw voice.

“If Allah has blessed this homestead, then the murdering Prince Kasir is dead.”  Yeghsa huffed.  “Countless times you have saved the children of Amasya from his cruelty.  Why must you die for doing such good deeds, Mistress?”

“Bite your tongue to keep it quiet if you must, Yeghsa, least you risk dying by my side if you are overheard in passing,” Zeundi warned before turning her attention to the Eunuch servant that was applying almond oil to her skin. 

Finding peace on her final day was not going to be a possibility.  Not even the strong soothing caresses of her private eunuch’s slippery gliding hands over her heated flesh could draw the unease from her body.

Zeundi waved his hands aside and sat up swinging her long and slender muscular legs over the side of the elongated marbled, alter table cushioned for comfort.  She smiled up at the tall man that stood before her.  His muscular sable black body glistened from the same oil he used upon her flesh. 

Ever so slowly her calloused fingers eased down the wide bare chest that flared from lean hips and a rock hard abdomen only to stop as she reached the hip-high drawstring of the full and flowing sarouelles.  She smoothed the width of his shoulders and was met with white teeth as his full top lip curled into a smile. 

“Beautiful Tolga,” she whispered into the palm of the large hand she held to her face. “My dearest companion, not even your arousing touch can ease me this day.”  She pressed a soft kiss to his palm and released his hand.  “It is time for you and Yeghsa to take your leave.  I wish to spend these last few minutes alone.”

She saw his soulful black eyes shimmer brightly in the candlelit room. Silently the tears rolled down his high-setting cheekbones.  Zeundi knew if he was able to speak, he would be wailing as loudly as her female servant.

In spite of his strong masculine appearance, he was one of the most sensitive souls she had ever met.  Being unable to speak since birth, he had been abused and taunted as an infidel. 

Zeundi knew there was a great intelligence behind those raisin colored eyes and she had been right.  When she taught Tolga the Japanese way of using his hands to speak, he became more confident in the manhood that had been stolen from him.  Once he had developed his potential muscular height the Vizier ordered him castrated to be a servant over the ladies of the Vizier’s harem. 

Seeing Tolga’s potential, Zeundi, given her choice of servants due to her status as personal guard to the prince, chose him as her personal Eunuch slave to care for her needs.  She took him under her wings and educated him into his manhood; showing him that he was still very much a man that could entertain and bring a woman to pleasure. 

Living up to the potential of his great strength, not once had she been disappointed by his care and she was glad she had chosen him amongst the many others.

Tolga spoke to her with the graceful movements of his hands and fingers as he communicated to her his feelings.

Zeundi nodded and smiled.  “I will miss you too, my friend, but it is my time.  I have long grown weary of my days living like a captive canary in this gilded cage called a palace.  I am ready to see my ‘sister’ Sauda in the neither world.”

He scowled at her words.  His hand movements became choppy as he emphasized his discontent.

Reaching out, she grabbed his hands to still him.  “Stop yelling at me.  I cannot understand you when you yell at me.”

He nodded and hand-spoke his words again to her, but slower.

“I do welcome my own death Tolga.  If it is the will of Allah, I have no choice but to accept it.”  She smiled sadly up at him.  “Tolga, do not allow your heart to weigh heavy with grief.  Envy me my peace; and pray for yourself…for your difficulties will continue.”

Tolga motioned his thanks to her for the care and kindness she had showed him. 

Zeundi nodded saying, “You have been a loyal companion and I have assured your freedom upon my death.”  His eyes closed as if he was trying to blank out her words of farewell.  However, the expressed emotions on his handsome face let her know he was listening and grasping the finality of his situation.

She knew how bittersweet this moment was for them.  They both were gaining something they have never known yet longed for with every unspoken breath-freedom. 

“Do not cry for me for it breaks my heart.”  She reached out and swiped the tears from his face.  “Live a long and prosperous life for the both of us with your freedom Tolga.”

His eyes opened and he looked down into her upturned face.  Lifting her with his hands beneath her arms he held her naked body against his naked chest before gliding almond oil-slicked flesh against almond oil-slicked flesh to lower her to her feet. 

Zeundi didn’t move away from Tolga’s sizable hands as he took hold of her face and cradled it.  He moved to press his mouth to hers and she turned her head allowing his lips to press at the corner of her mouth instead. 

He released a sigh and held her tightly in his arms.  He kissed her face, hears, the side of her throat and the curve of her shoulder.  She could feel his desperation to cling to what was familiar, but she knew it would be best for him to leave the palace.  She feared that even upon her death once the Vizier found out the truth about Prince Kasir disappearance, he would seek vengeance against anyone and anything tied to her.

It was as if he wanted to rob her of her last breath and take it with him as his kiss deepened.  She felt his hands lower to her bare bottom and squeeze.  Even though a moan of wanton need escaped her lips, Zeundi dropped her arms from his waist.  With firm hands, she pushed against his chest and turned her head to avoid any further kisses he planned to administer.

“I taught you too well, my friend.”  Zeundi’s small high-pointed breasts heaved as she brought her breathing back under control.  “Do not allow the affliction on your manhood to keep you from finding a woman to love. 

Any woman would be blessed to have you.”  She shook her head as he mutely pointed at her.  “No, I am not capable of loving anyone.”  She laughed softly.  “My panther Sheba is different.  She is more like the child I can never have and she will go to the netherworld with me.”

Zeundi noticed his hand movements were once again displaying his deep agitation, but she had an idea of what he was requesting of her.  

“Tolga, I do not desire you to die by my side.  I want you to live and I want you to quicken from this place as soon as you gather your things.  In our special place you will find I have provided a heavy purse for you.  It is enough kurush, paper money, to build a new life as long as you spend it wisely.”  Zeundi reasoned. 

To her disbelief Tolga reached out and grasped her harshly by the shoulders and shook her in his growing frustration.  Her eyes widened and she had the eunuch on his back before he could resist, locking his arms down with the pressure of her knees to his biceps and her nude bottom resting on his chest.

 “You are still my servant and you shall obey me Tolga or I will unsay your freedom and have you become campaign retainer to the soldats, soldiers.  You know what happens to the eunuchs that end up in the soldats care do you not?”  Her voice grew louder.  “Is this what you have me do?”

He shook his head.

“You will leave here immediately?”

He nodded.

Zeundi released him and rose.  With a short gesture she ordered him to rise and take his leave. 

Tolga hesitated, staring at her unblinking before without another glance back, his long strides took him out of her quarters and out of her life.

Zeundi released a long shaky sigh.

“This is cruel.”  Yeghsa mumbled coming forth as Zeundi took two steps down from the raised platform. 

“Not you too Yeghsa.”  Zeundi made a face.

Yeghsa, at least two heads shorter and considerably more petite in stature than her tall leanly-muscular mistress, stopped in front of Zeundi.  She contained her urge to wrap her arms around her Nubian mistress for she felt as grateful as Tolga, but she didn’t want to risk having her feet being swept from beneath her and end up on the floor.  Instead she covered Zeundi’s uninhibited nakedness with a loincloth of the finest linen. 

“Mistress Zeundi, you have been a loyal guardian to your masters; yet, on your final day they ask that you entertain them like a performing monkey.  It is an insult if you ask me.”

“I did not,” Zeundi laughed softly.  She lifted her arms as Yeghsa moved to wrap the gauzed, transparent thigh-high skirt around her hips and tide it off before adding and securing the leather short blade belt, currently minus the blade. 

“Yeghsa, you make it sound as if I am a member of the imperial family.  I am no more than a high ranking slave and if my master wills a final fight, so it shall be.”

“You do this to save the villagers and I think they are the cruel ones for not coming forward to tell the truth.”  Yeghsa moved to the small corner table and returned with a med sized ornate casket encrusted with silver and a key lock for safe keeping.

Placing the box on the floor beside Zeundi’s feet, she turned the key and opened the lid to reveal bagh nakn, tiger claws made from a pair of brown leather gloves with claws made of silver curved like a panther’s claws on the tips of the fingers.

“I never thought I would die for a good cause, Yeghsa.  It is an honorable feeling and that is why I meet my fate without fear,” Zeundi explained.

“What about me?  I need you.  You have become my family.”

“You, Tolga and Hagee have been loyal in your service to me.  Before coming here, with the exception of my warrior sisters, I trusted and allowed myself to become close to no one.  Being around good people like you, Yeghsa and the people in the village has changed me.

“I never expected to be accepted anywhere; but I was and because of it, I willingly sacrificed myself for the greater good,” Zeundi confided.  “Once I am gone, nothing need be spoken of in regards to the missing prince.  Vizier Ahmed is ailing.  I am sure he will continue to search for Prince Kasir until he dies, but we both know he will be unsuccessful.”

“The people of Amasya and the surrounding areas will be able to breathe anew under the new Vizier,” Yeghsa commented.  “I heard he cares about the people.”

“Most who gain power do care…in the beginning.  Yet, there is something about power that breeds an insatiable greed for more and the more power they get, the crueler they become in order to keep it.”

“That is why you must fight and not answer the call of death,” Yeghsa voiced.  “You are my only friend.  If you had not stopped to pick me up, I would have died in the desert where the kidnappers deserted me because I was too heavy with child to keep up with the caravan.”

“I am sorry there was nothing I could do to save the child,” Zeundi reached out and squeezed her hand.

“It was the will of Christ.  What kind of life would I have been able to provide my child as a slave?  They would have sold him, if he had not died.  My life and happiness dissolved the moment they burned down the mission, murdered my husband and kidnapped me.  I believe it was for the best that my child did not have to suffer the same fate.”

“Yeghsa, I will not be around in the future to warn you not to speak so freely of your Jesuit faith; at least not until you are safely amongst others that hold your same beliefs.  Each day, nonbelievers of the teachings of Mohammed are being imprisoned and murdered for not absolving their beliefs,” Zeundi advised.

The petite woman sighed, clasped her slender hands together and nodded at her.

“Even though I came here with beliefs of my own,” Zeundi continued.  “I adapted to please my master.  Those who command my service want me for my skills; yet regardless of my displayed intelligence, they think I am an infidel because of the color of my skin.  Do not lose what you need for your spiritual survival.  Just be smart because only you need know what is truly in your heart.”

“Mistress, you have changed much since when we first met,” Yeghsa said in a tone filled with awe and respect.

“Have I?”  She adjusted the weapon sash at her hip.  “If you say so,” she remarked and said no more.

The servant did something she knew Zeundi disliked, but she hoped she would allow it since it would be the last time they would get to speak this way.  She closed the space between them and wrapped her arms about her mistress in a hug and felt her stiffened from the endearment but she didn’t let go.  Not yet.

“Mistress Zeundi, I know you denied Tolga this request, but you know a woman’s lot in life bares no true free will.   I beg that you take me with you into the arena so that I may journey with you into this afterlife.  If what you have told me is true, we could be reborn as sisters.”

“In your case, you will be reborn as a horse’s ass for uttering such nonsense.”  Zeundi reached up and disengaged Yeghsa’s arms from about her neck.  Her coolness was evidence she was not grateful for her servants undying loyalty.

“It is said that Queen Cleopatra took her life and her loyal servants joined her.”

“They were idiots and so was she.  As long as she was alive she could have used her gifts of seduction and lived to be Queen another day,” Zeundi bellowed.  “Do you think I would willingly take my own life just because I was born a woman and life has been difficult?  If I were so weak, I would have killed myself long before this day arrived.”

“Is that not what you are doing?  You walked proudly to your death instead of doing whatever is necessary to remain alive!”  Yeghsa’s argue bravely. 

“If you are going to be as bothersome as Tolga, you might as well take your leave and I will finish preparing myself.”  Zeundi glared at her with burning reproachful eyes.

“Carry on with the pretense, Mistress, until you can escape the clutches of those that you are honor bound to.  All you have to do is continue the pretense of searching for Prince Kasir.  Do this and the first moment you can escape--”

“Escape to where, Yeghsa?  Sauda escaped and she ended up dead because there is no escaping for us.  If Vizier Ahmed’s men do not come after me, Lady Chiyome will send her assassins after me.  She has spies that watch me at all times to assure my whereabouts!  Only in death can I be free.”

“I need you,” she cried.

“And I need your strength now Yeghsa; not more of your tears.” Zeundi ran her hand through the redheaded ivory-skinned Circassian woman’s tresses and tugged causing her kohl lined blue eyes to look up at her.  “Are you going to finish helping to get ready or must I do this alone?” 

 Yeghsa rounded her shoulders and brushed away the tears that marred her beautiful features.  She forced a smile.  “This will be the last thing I do for you so please allow me to finish serving you.”

Zeundi stood motionless as Yeghsa carefully eased on her gloves so not to cut her hands on the sharpened fingertips.  Just as they were finishing up, one of the palace guards came in and announced she had a visitor. 

“Yeghsa, whosoever it is, send them away.”

“As you wish,” She bowed her head and walked towards the outer chamber doors, pulling the heavy red embroidered velvet drapes to close off Zeundi’s inner chambers behind her.

Minutes later Yeghsa returned in breathless excitement.  “Mistress, there is a messenger here to see you.  He said he has traveled far to deliver a missive from one of your warring sisters.”

“Do not stand there dawdling! Show him in immediately,” Zeundi ordered as a flicker of apprehension coursed through her.

A slender Asian man hurried inside as Yeghsa held the curtains aside for his entrance.  Upon entering he bowed profusely avoiding gawking at Zeundi’s half naked form.  “Sumimasen, Ichirou Yamada desu. Douzo yoroshiku.  Forgive my interruptions.  I am Yamada Ichirou.  Nice to meet you.”

She nodded.  Reverting from Turkish to facile Japanese, she asked, “Why have you come?”  “I…I…” he stuttered glancing at her half nakedness momentarily before looking away once more.  His cheeks reddened beneath the grime.  “Sumimasen, I did not mean to enter while you were dressing.”

 “Forgive me, I am preparing for an event; but I find your embarrassment refreshing.”  Zeundi smirked.  Her left eyebrow lifted a fraction at his obvious discomfort.   She laughed aloud.   “Yeghsa, I will call for you when I need you.”

“No, please.  I do not wish to leave you,” Yeghsa whined.  Her curiosity was getting the best of her. 

“Yeghsa, when did your wishes come before mine?”

With a last pleading look at Zeundi, the servant saw that her master’s rare moment of tolerance and bonding had come and ended.  Seeing she was overstepping her place, with a somber face she bowed her head and backed out of the room.

Zeundi returned her attention to the messenger.   

“It is impossible for me to cover myself for modesty sake without ripping the precious fabric with these.”  She returned to speaking Japanese, lifting her hands to show the crude gloves. 

“Wakarimasu, I understand.”  The fidgeting man grew even redder beneath the grimy sheen of sweat on his travel-weary face.

Zeundi continued, “If you are from one of my ‘sisters,’ then you know who I am and what these are.  You also know I will not hesitate to use them.  Tell me who sent you…the sister of the Cobra or the sister of the Dragon?”

“First, I must ask if it is completely safe to speak openly in here, Lady Kurohyou.”

“Would I foolishly jeopardize my sister’s trust?  Give me the message for my time and patience is growing short!”  Zeundi demanded.

“The message I have is from the sister of the Scorpion, Sau--ahh!”

Before the man could finish speaking her name, Zeundi had him backed up against the nearest wall, with a forearm braced against his throat and a fisted claw ready to strike.

“You lie!”  She hissed.  “What fool sent you here to deceive me?  The Scorpion is no more.  Do you suppose just because I am housed here in this faraway land I do not know what has become of my sisters?”

“Please…please…Mistress Kurohyou.”  The man choked out as he slapped at Zeundi’s arm.   She eased up so he could speak.  “I…I have proof!”

Zeundi released her hold and the thin man grabbed his throat with shaky coughs and wheezing.  He watched her with wary eyes.  

“I think you better explain what this is about quickly, for my day already looms short and my fortitude has grown quite thin.”

“Hai, yes, Mistress.”  He reached inside his dust covered, overlapped robe and removed a small pouch of red velvet.

She took the pouch and opened it.  A gasp escaped her lips.  Holding out a palm, she spilled the contents into her gloved palm.  The nearby oil lantern cast a warm reflection against the tiny gold chain link of bells that tinkled and spilled forth into her hand.  A half smile appeared.  Sauda is alive.

Zeundi had constructed the tiny seduction bells herself as a birthday gift.  They were made specifically for Sauda to insert into her feminine parts so that when she danced the bells would create a tinkling sound.  She had become so skilled at using them she could create the tinkling sound without obvious movements.

Thinking about all the efforts her sister had put forward into learning how to insert and use them properly softened her harsh angular features.  “I believe you,” she nodded.  “Tell me what message you have for me,” she ordered softly.  Her gaze didn’t rise from the delicate bells.

“Mistress Sauda wants you to know she has found happiness completely free of Lady Chiyome and she prays that someday you will be able to join her.”

“Praying, you say?”  Zeundi smirked.  “Sauda must be happy if she now believes in a higher power to pray to.  She was always the ‘none believer’ amongst us.”

“My mistress sent me to make a most important request,” he burst forth.

“If Sauda has sent you with a request that requires my skills, I am afraid I must decline.  You have come to me hours before I am scheduled to die.  I am sorry you must return to my sister and give her the bad news of my demise.”

She gave the man a hard stare, noticing his initial nervousness revolved into a worrisome fidgeting that was quickly annoying her. 

 “Mistress Kurohyou, tell me what I must do to assure that you postpone your death so that you may help with this matter?”  Yamada asked.

“Postpone my death?”  Zeundi had to grin at the very thought of telling Vizier Ahmed that she decided today was not a good day to die after all. 

If she went to her master now, he would expect her to continue searching for Prince Kasir.  If that were to happen, she would be expected to return to the village the prince was last seen with Ahmed’s high ranking soldiers.  It was because of the abuse and rape the soldiers wrought that she decided to put an end to everything.

She knew under torture someone would eventually confess the truth.  No, she couldn’t think about that now and she couldn’t help Sauda. 

Zeundi had already planned everything.  After her performance for the visiting royals and heads of states, she would confess her crimes for which she would be put to death.  She would also confess to killing the Prince Kasir. 

She noticed the messenger hadn’t asked why she knew she would be dying soon.  Obviously, Sauda had trained him well.

“I rather help keep you alive.   If I return to Mistress Sauda with such news, she would surely kill me this time,” he bellowed.

“It will not be the first time she killed the messenger, but if you served her well in the past, she shall be swift,” Zeundi warned half seriously.

“Maybe if I tell you her request, it will change your mind.”

“I would do so if it was possible,” she reasoned.  “However, my life is not what concerns me; but the lives of the innocent children that will be caught of the middle of this.  They have already suffered enough under this wicked ruler.  You have no idea what you are asking of me.  Sauda understand these things.”

“Perhaps under normal circumstances; however, this is an extremely personal request.”  He spread his hands wide.

“How so?”  She inquired with a frown.

“Sir Lucian Gilbert is like a member of her family.  He is a good friend of her husband and he has saved both of their lives in the past--”

“Wait!” Zeundi held up a gloved hand.  “Sir Lucian Gilbert?  Husband?  You are telling me my sister has wedded?” 

“Hai! Yes, and is expecting their first child, unless the infant has been born already or heaven forbid any problems.  My mistress was swelling with the seed of life when the ship I travelled upon set sail”

She merely stared tongue-tied.

Zeundi staggered backwards, her hands reaching for the chaise that was not too far away from where she was standing.  She heard the wrenching rip of material as the silver tip nails ripped the chase, but her mind was so numb with disbelief at the news the messenger had departed, it went unnoticed. 

“This cannot be true.   My sister has a husband and how is this possible?  A baby you say?  How…I mean…we are unable to conceive.”

“I know that is what Lady Chiyome intended with the administration of herbs she had concocted for the female assassins and concubines in the palace, but I swear it be the truth I speak,” Yamada assured her.  “How?  I do not know, but a way has been found for I have seen the blessing with my own eyes.”

“You say her request involves this Sir Lucian Gilbert, a friend of her husband?  What type of man is this husband of hers?”

“Lord Ethan Clare is a great man of the Queen’s Royal service, but has since been dishonored and gave up his heritage in order to leave England and make a life with your sister of the Scorpion,” he explained.  “They have built…”

“No,” Zeundi interrupted.  “Say no more.  It makes me restless to see her and experience with her the happiness she has found.”

 He nodded.

“I swear on the oath of all my sisters that I cannot stop my death from happening or I would.  However, I am curious as to what Sauda was expecting me to do for this Sir Lucian Gilbert you speak of.”  

“His ship is currently anchored in the port of Hopa.  I have learned since then he is staying at an Inn in Amasya under the guise of an Italian cloth and silk merchant from Genoa named Luciano Gilberto.”  He paused to take in a deep breath before he continued. 

“He is here searching for his mother that had been kidnapped off her family ship as a young girl.  She sent him to his grandfather in England but he knows not what happened to her or who his father may be.”

“She thought I could help?”

“Hai.”

 “If only you had come sooner.”  Zeundi’s voice faded to a hushed stillness.

“Forgive me.  There were many delays with the vessel in which I sailed upon,” he apologized. 

Zeundi cursed softly and stood up from the chaise.  How could she die now in peace knowing her sister has requested such a simple favor?  She cursed once more, this time more heatedly, than before drawing in a deep breath and releasing a resigned sigh.

“I now walk heavy hearted into the arena with Sauda’s request on my conscience,” Zeundi worried her bottom lip. 

“Please do not bid me to return with more bad news to my Mistress.”

“You will return and convey my plight.  Tell her to pray to Allah that I may find peace in the afterlife.  I am deeply regretful that I cannot pay her back the debt I owe her.”

“Aye, I shall covey the message.”  The messenger murmured mournfully.

Zeundi strode over to the drawn curtains knowing Yeghsa would be nearby.   She called for her.

“Mistress Zeundi?”

 “See to it that this weary traveler is refreshed before you send him on his way.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Blessings on your journey.  I shall carry the news of your demise with great sadness. Even though I used to serve Lady Chiyome’s general, I have admired you and your sisters’ prowess during the days I and my warrior brothers assisted you in your missions.”   The wiry Asian bowed deeply.

“I am regretful to not have known of you during those times, good man.  Go with Allah.”

Yamada bowed from the waist and followed silently behind the woman servant out of the room.

The amphitheater horns shrilled loudly signaling the beginning of the events. Zeundi grasped the yari, spear, braced against the wall that was a foot long with an additional bladed tip on one end of two more feet. 

On soft leather booted feet, Zeundi quickened from her sleeping quarters through a hidden exit that led into a torched inner chamber and lit tunnels.  Sheba, her black panther, automatically fell into step beside her.  Her personal pet companion was the only pet with a cage that she could easily escape by using her nose to release the lever.

Zeundi lamentably glanced over at all the other cages, now empty of her beloved pets, in passing.  She knew they would be well cared for.  She had instructed her assistant Bedouin trainer to move them to the transporter wagon and take them back to his desert encampment to assure their proper care.

As she cleared the opening of the tunnel, the sun beat down on her as she made her way into the center of the arena to stand before the royal dais.  The crowd erupted with cheers and a deafening chant of her name.

“Zeundi!  Zeundi!  Zeundi!”

ZZZ

Lucian halted and groaned.  He was too late.

There was no way his initial plan would work.  He could barely move forward in the throng of people and if anyone assumed he was the prince, they did not show it.  Unless he hacked his way through the crowd with an army of soldiers at his back to give a presentation of importance, he might as well be a beggar from the streets.   

“Master, what do we do now?”  Ram questioned, grabbing hold of Lucian’s sleeve as they shuffled along the sandstone courtyard with hoards of nobles, warriors and slaves alike.  

“At this point no one cares not if I am the prince.  They want to be able to see the events and will step upon the prince’s back to get a higher view of the activities,” Lucian reasoned.

“Koruma Zeundi will give one final performance before she loses her head,” Ram offered.  “You think we can still save her?”

“I do not know, Ram, but I do know I must try or I will not be able to return home and look Sauda in the face.   She will demand to know everything, including if Zeundi’s death was before or after I realized who she was and the trouble she was in.”

“Then tell her you tried no matter what,” Ram suggested.

“Lie?”  Lucian snorted on a laugh.  “You must be mad!  Ethan’s bride saw through my disguise soon after we met.  Something tells me I will not have the lie out of my mouth before she suspects the falsehood.”

“Is this woman you speak of as frightening as Koruma Zeundi?”

Lucian paused at that question.  “I know only the stories I have heard from Sauda about Zeundi.  I believe they are both unique and highly unusual women.”

“I suppose, Master.” Rahim murmured.  His nose crinkled.  “I find girls to be as bothersome as camel flies buzzing over bok, shit.” 

Lucian cleared his throat.  Ram grinned sheepishly, getting the hint to watch his base language.  He was a gentleman’s servant now. 

“The girls I know talk on and on about nothing useful.”

“That does not ever change, Rahim, however as you grow into your manhood you will not care.” He laughed and put his arm about the boy’s shoulders to keep from losing him in the crowd.

“What do we do now?”

“You will go back to the Inn and stay put in your room until I come for you.  The Inn Keeper has been paid handsomely to see to both of our needs; so take your meal with him and his family,” Lucian instructed.

“Do you have a plan, Master?”

“I do and unfortunately I cannot be worried about losing you in the crowd, so I will feel much better if you do as you are told Rahim.”

“Yes, Master.  I will go now.  Please tell Koruma Zeundi, Rahim also helped to save her!”

“Get going!”

Lucian continued watching until he lost sight of the child.  Seeing what he needed up ahead, he walked over to the man who immediately recognized him as Prince Kasir and dropped to his knees.

“Say you, I am in great need of your steed to make my way through the people.  Please rise.”  Lucian waved his hand with an air of authority.

“Lord Prince, you have returned!  It is because you have been missing that your koruma is to go to her death this day.”

“Not if I can help it,” Lucian murmured accepting the white horse that side-stepped as he looped his caftan robes over his arms, put one foot in the stirrup and hoisted over the saddle to take a seat. 

His fingers tightened on the horse’s reins as it reared its head and snorted.  He easily showed the beast he was in control before he lightened his hold and gave him his head.   

Lucian felt pleased.  While on foot, no one would notice he was Prince Kasir in this crowd.  However, riding up closer to the arena on horseback, he was sure to gain attention. 

Scents of unwashed people and cooking fires from the vendors mingled with the dung of animals.  As he got closer to the coliseum, the unmistakable smell of fresh blood permeated the air from where he was sitting above the crowd of onlookers.  He was thankful that the air was full of wind.  It eased his heated flesh beneath the fashionable white loose flowing garment over layers of clothing.

The horse forced everyone to step aside for him to come through or risk falling and getting trampled upon.  Those who looked up at him in agitation immediately reacted as if seeing another worldly spirit and fell away.  Others literally ran horrified into the hoards of people.  He was beginning to hear Prince Kasir’s name being murmured amongst the people.

Upon seeing him, a pair of guards opened the arena’s gates as he approached and he halted at the entrance.  The show had already begun and he couldn’t risk going any further on horseback for a big black panther slowly stalked about, assuring no one got to close to the dark skinned woman who was warily eyeing the four men who were trying to close in on her.

Lucian could only pray that he would garner attention from the nobles far above them on the upper level pavilions.  He already had the attention of the hundred or more soldiers and servants standing in attendance.

For the first time, Lucian got a look at Sauda’s warrior sister, Zeundi Kurohyou.  She was like no woman he had ever seen and he didn’t know whether to be horrified or intrigued by her unusual appearance.

The first thing that caught him by surprise was the amount of skin that was showing.  Her flesh, the color of dark Turkish coffee was bare for the world to see; for she stood proudly naked from the waist up with only a loin cloth and a transparent skirt barely hiding her lower frame. 

Lucian was also surprised to see she stood taller than a few of the men closing in on her.  Her legs and arms were long and lean with a muscular definition he wasn’t accustomed to seeing on the women he associated with. 

Even though seeing her completely comfortable in her near state of nakedness before a swarm of people was shocking, it was more so that she had no hair!  Her head was like the rest of her body, oiled and shining in the sun, cleanly void of all hair, revealing a smooth well-shaped head.  Though it was disconcerting at first sight, there was no hiding her unusual exotic appeal.

It galled him that the woman, capable or not, was expected to battle against such unfair odds.  He watched two additional men with spears in hand come closer to occupy the attention of the big cat while the other four men closed in on her. It didn’t take a man of extraordinary thinking to see what was going on here. 

Even though Rahim had informed him of the exhibition of Zeundi’s abilities before her execution against slaves imprisoned for their crimes, it was obvious to him that this is not what was taking place.

 Lucian knew skillful Janissaries when he saw them. Vizier Ahmed was living up to his reputation of deceit.  He had no intentions of the woman dying the death of an honored warrior.  He obviously has received word that Zeundi was revered and thought well upon by the people.  He was going to use her to make a point to the people of Amasya that he would stand no oppositions of any kind.

Turning his attention to the nobles on the pavilion, Lucian saw a bloated and unhealthy looking man dressed in elegant garbs flanked by two broad shouldered Korumas.  He assumed this was Vizier Ahmed, the man he has been trying to gain an audience with since his arrival in Amasya.

 His accessing pale grey eyes narrowed on the Vizier as he lifted his beefy bejeweled hand to motion to a soldat who lifted a bow with arrow poised.  Lucian let out a cry and heeled the horse in the side surging forth.  The arrow sailed straight and true, but Zeundi wasn’t the target as he suspected.  It was the big black cat that let out a welling yelp as it flopped to the ground.

Lucian reflexes caused him to tighten the reins and tug.  The horse protested with a loud neigh, coming up on its hind legs.  Instinctively, Lucian’s thighs tightened and he easily brought the mount under control forcing its front hooves back down on the ground.  The horrifying sound of the panther had drawn the horse’s attention and the animal was spooked.  It took all his strength to maintain control of the powerful prancing beast.

 Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Zeundi move and two armed men went down quickly as she made her way over to the mortally wounded midnight black form that was lying limp in the dirt and dust.  He watched in voiceless fascination, along with the rest of the stadium audience, as the seemingly emotionless woman dropped to her knees beside the creature and wept.

Lucian’s hand rubbed at the tightness he felt in his chest, feeling wondrous of the unfamiliar tugging he felt over her distress and pain.  He was close enough to see that her eyes were unguarded and an unexpected remarkably olive shade.

He watched her slowly come to her feet and she didn’t spare him even a glance.  Her attention was focused on the Janissaries attempting to close ranks once more. 

In her defensive stance, every muscle in her thin frame was evident.  If he had doubted her identity, it was confirmed as she turned and he saw the beautifully sinister tattoo of a panther with red painted eyes going from the back of her shaven head to the waistline of her loincloth. 

Ethan had told him that Sauda had such a marking of a Scorpion and he only imagined what it looked like until now.  He’d never seen such exquisite artwork and the artist used her smoothed skin like a canvas.

One panther paw with extended claws appeared to be clawing at one perfectly proportioned high buttock cheek.  He swallowed the rising lump in his throat and his mouth felt as dry as the desert sands.

One of the Janissaries charged towards her.  She reacted in a motion so swift the soldier had moved another yard before he realized there was a short blade buried to the hilt in his chest.  The dying man stopped a few feet away from Zeundi.  The surprised expression on his face was almost comical as he dropped to his knees and his hands grasped the handle of the knife before falling over in a dead heap.

The applause and roar of noise was both startling and deafening.  Now, more than ever, Lucian was aware of how vulnerable he was at the moment.  With the exception of the small throwing blades he kept in the special made sheaths attached to his soft leather boots, he was without serious weaponry.

When he thought of coming here to save the damsel, he assumed looking like the missing prince would be enough to stop the proceedings, but now he was wondering if anyone truly gave a damn that the prince was missing at all; or maybe the gluttonous Vizier was also blind and he needed to place himself under his nose before he realized his ‘prodigal son’ had returned.

Lucian could see that he couldn’t be much help to her unarmed.  Except for the claw contraptions on her hands, he couldn’t see where she was equipped with any much needed weapons.  The spear she held was still embedded in one of the dead and the blade from her waist was now in the chest of the charging soldier.

There still were four more to go and he couldn’t very well kill one of them.  How would it look for a supposed ‘prince’ to kill one of his own men to protect a bodyguard accused of misplacing him or worse?  He had to do something.

Guiding the horse in a turn, Lucian made his way towards the pavilion and halted the horse once again.  Turning in the saddle at the sound of the cheering crowd, he saw Zeundi had taken down two more men. 

Blood was dripping from both claws of her gloved hands and splattered all over her face and the front of her naked breasts.  She stalked forward as dangerous and elegant on her feet as the gait her dead pet had displayed.

Lucian was taken in by her savage loveliness and found that even though he tried, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from her as she single-handedly took down the last two men.

It was then she turned her attention towards him.  He saw the surprise on her face before she narrowed a warning gaze at him and masked it with abrupt impassivity.  Lucian looked past her.  Slaves were pulling on chains to lift up the iron gates and allow more foot soldiers onto the stadium field. 

She sadly looked over at her cat and he could see the mournful weariness on her face.  He thought there was no way she would be able to take on so many more warriors and survive, but he could see the Vizier wasn’t leaving anything else to chance.  The Vizier’s guard’s bow reloaded with another arrow lifted.

Lucian felt a feeling of panic gripping deep in his gut.  He urged the horse forward in a full gait. “Zeundi, the arrow!” he called out to her.

She looked up from her panther and tried to dodge the oncoming arrow, but not fast enough.  The force of the arrow tore straight through her shoulder and knocked her off her feet.

CHAPTER THREE