Against the alabaster floors, the moon shadows glinting through the mosaic glass windows cast a ghostly spectrum of faded colors - red, orange, green and yellow were almost drowned in the deep silver-blue. Like sentinels, the windows seemed to guard the inner cloister of the Al'Daree manse, and on most nights, they would have stood their vigil in silence, letting the shadows drift and change until the rising of the merciless sun. This part of the palace of Madev Al'Daree was seldom used at night; it was far from the suites of guests and away from the slaves' chambers, save for one.
Tonight, though, the moon shadows playing against the faded reflection of colors across the bone white floor -was- interrupted. Figures passed through the hall like black, shadowy phantoms; and from their quiet tread, it was clear they were trying to be unheard. One figure, much bulkier than all the rest, paused and looked down the white stone hall, towards a set of sandstone carved doors that were bolted shut.
"Master... forgive this one, but we must make haste if we are to get out of the city and reach your cousin's manse this night..."
Madev Al'Daree, cloaked in black - a very unusual and unwieldy garb for his ponderous bulk - held up a hand, still staring at the large, ornate doors twenty paces away.
The two personal guards, flocked by a half dozen of Al'Daree's favorite slaves, exchanged a glance. The master, it seemed, was having second thoughts about abandoning his most prized and expensive slave - the Djinni, Kaitar Besh, who was in those isolated chambers behind the locked doors.
"My master... the revolt. I beg your forgiveness, but it would be too dangerous to lead that one away with us now. He could be part of it, it is said that..."
"I know what is said," Al'Daree glanced back at the guard who had spoken, triple chins quivering as he hissed the words. "I know what is said and I know the danger. Who better than I to know the danger when unruly slaves take up arms against the very masters who have loved, fed, and protected them? Bah." He waved his hand again and turned away from the doors with an effort. He was leaving behind his entire estate, save for these few slaves and guards with what bit of his fortune they could carry. He had other manses, but this was his grandest; the loss of so much would be painful, but not as painful as his life. The loss of a slave as valuable, famous and infamous as Kaitar Besh would be as bad a blow to his mercantile empire and social status as leaving his gold and most precious ornaments behind. But it must be done.
They moved on again, the silence resumed, and soon the windows were conducting solitary vigil once more.
***
It was late morning. Nearing noon, and nearing the time when most of the people of Essyrn would escape the blistering sun and rest.
And yet, the slave that usually came to unlock Kaitar's chambers early in the morning to bring him the light breakfast Al'Daree sent for him to partake in before sparring in the manse practice pit had not arrived. No one had arrived. No one had unlocked the door and soon the sun would reach its pinnacle outside.
Kaitar, contrary to what Madev and his guards might have thought, knew less about the revolt of slaves than most of the people - rich and poor alike - of the city state. He had heard rumors, but there were always rumors, and as he did not mingle with the other slaves, he heard no fresh news being whispered when the Master or his personal guard were not watching.
And so, Kaitar Besh, was completely perplexed as to why the tedious routine of his bitter life had been so abruptly changed.
"Maybe the fat pig has finally died, and the whole house is in an uproar..."
But no. As he sat on his bedroll in the sparsely furnished (though large) chamber, sharpening and re-sharpening his yatagan out of nervous habit, he shook his head at the idea. No. Madev Al'Daree had not died, as joyful a thought as it might be. If the pig were dead, Kaitar reasoned, there would have been the sound of customary wailing from the servants and in the streets at the news - feigned or not. But there was no mourning cry.
Suddenly, he heard faint footsteps - quick and light - coming towards his chambers from the long alabaster hall. His ears pricked up at the sound and he drew his veil over his face; Kaitar did not go out without his face entirely covered. Or most of his body, unlike most of the people of Essryn.
The doors were unlocked and unbarred, but whoever was doing it was not as practiced as the old slave woman who brought his food and led him to the sparring pit every morning; this was an unsure hand who now opened his door.
A face peeked in - young, with dark brown eyes wide in a heart-shaped face. A slave girl, barely of age. Kaitar had seen her now and then in the past few weeks as she followed the master hither and fro - obviously one of Al'Daree's new pleasure slaves.
When the girl saw him, she gasped and stammered out something unintelligible before turning and bolting back down the hall. Whatever was going on was so out of the ordinary that Kaitar could only blink once or twice before he set his own feet in motion after her.
She was quick, but his speed was like that of a great cat toying with a mouse - he caught her in less than a dozen steps. The girl stifled a scream as a hand clamped over her mouth and the other caught around her waist - the hold was like iron, and her struggles did nothing to free her.
Slowly, the fingers around her mouth flexed enough to allow her to catch her breath and at her ear she heard a low, raspy voice "Where is old Hizarja, why have they sent you instead?"
"Don't..." she began, and Kaitar could feel her shaking. She did not know that he had no intent on hurting her - a simple slave girl that could not have done him any harm - but he wanted answers. Her fear (for no doubt she had heard rumors and stole wary glimpses at him when she could) would serve well to find out what was going on. "Don't steal my soul, please! They only sent me to let you out. They said it wouldn't be fair to keep you locked up to starve, even if you were a Dji..."
Well, that was affirmation enough of her having heard wild tales and rumors. "Who sent you to let me out? Where is the Master?"
"The...the other slaves. Master isn't here." she rushed on, still trembling, but now speaking more clearly and struggling against his hold. "He's gone! We searched the manse but he is gone, along with the guards and Akadul and..."
Kaitar let her go, thrusting her away from himself so abruptly that she stumbled and fell to her knees.
"Gone...?"
She turned to look up at him, pale and wide-eyed. She could just make out his fierce, sharp features from under the dark veil, and his two eyes gazing at her like merciless suns through the haze of a sandstorm. Inwardly, she shuddered, but forced a reply.
"Gone, yes. We think he ran away last night because of the uprising that's been happening against some of the merchant princes. He's gone!" and there was a touch of joyous defiance in her voice that made Kaitar's lip twitch -almost- into a cold smirk. No doubt the girl had not enjoyed her appointed role in serving the sweating, grotesquely obese and - more off-putting than either - cruel Madev Al'Daree.
She got up to her feet and turned, running again as if she had seen her opportunity to escape the awful soul-stealing Djinni before her. Kaitar let her go, musing in silent amazement and feeling a touch of bitter irony. He had long waited for a moment like this - a chance to escape. But he had not imagined, in all his plotting and hate filled dreaming - that Madev Al'Daree's ownership of him would end with his Master sneaking off in the night like a thief. Ire coiled in his gut like a snake; it should have been different. Al'Daree should meet his end at the sharp edge of his prized slave's yatagan.
But it was not to be. Not today, anyway. And he could not stand there pondering revenge. It was near enough to noon now that most people in the city would be inside, or at least not out on the streets. Now was the time to get away and find someplace to plan the next step...whatever that might be. Kaitar had never really thought much on it beyond the actual moment of freedom itself.
And for the briefest of instants, he felt a bite of fear - what was he going to do now? Everyone in the city knew who he was, simply because they knew Madev Al'Daree or had seen him fight in the Colosseum. It would be nigh impossible to blend into a crowd like most runaway or rebel slaves could. His appearance alone would give him away, even if he hadn't been a famous slave-fighter.
No time to worry about it - if he was going to make a break for it, noon was the time. Fewer people to spot him. Unconsciously, Kaitar felt for the yatagans at his sashed waist as he managed a quick, but controlled, walk towards one of the tall windows. Now, from the other levels of the palace and from the courtyard, the sounds of slaves looting and declaring their freedom reached his ears. He would not join them - they might have sent one of their own to unlock his chambers, but he was no more welcome amongst their rank and file than he would be anywhere else.
Without ceremony, he drew his yatagans and, using the handles, smashed the beautiful mosaic, stained glass windows before leaping into the courtyard some dozen feet below. An hour later would find him sliding along the scant shadows of a narrow alley, peering furtively about like one of the feral cats that prowled the city looking for vermin or scraps of food...or danger. And like a cat, he had no other thought at that moment than trying to stay out of sight.
