The Gentle Master

She was smiling up at him, her arms outstretched, inviting him to have his pleasure. Karan felt his groin tighten again and he raised himself up, settling his large body between her legs. In one motion, he slid into her, smoothly as a sword to its sheath.

Ariana grabbed his buttocks as he moved up and down, pulling him as deeply into her as she could.

"Lord Karan, Lord Karan," she whispered in between kisses. She looked up at him, her emerald eyes glossed over with love and pleasure. "Come, my lord," she coaxed. "Fill me."

Karan thrust hard in long, smooth motions, driven to a fever by Ariana's words. With each plunge into her, the pressure of his seed mounted, readying to burst. He raised himself up on his hands, his palms flat on the fur skin and ground his cock against her, around and around until a climax shuddered through him and he spilled his warm seed into Ariana's womb.

He moaned. thrusting until the ripples of his orgasm ceased. When they had, he collapsed gently on top of Ariana, stroking her fiery hair. Fleetingly, he wished his seed could take root inside her and produce a child. But it was common practice for bed-slaves to be sterilized with herbs so that they would not bear children who would then take away time from their master or mistress' pleasure.

"I love you, Ariana."

Ariana lifted her face and kissed his beard, reaching up and lacing her fingers in his silky hair.

"I love you, my lord," she whispered back.

Together, they lay entwined for a little while, until suddenly, Karan pulled away and sat up, his ear trained toward the opening of the cave.

Alarmed, Ariana sat up too and tried to listen as Karan did. But all she heard were the birds crying to each other as they circled on the wind currents and the whoosh of the breeze as it passed between the huge rocks of the hills.

"What is it, my lord?" she whispered.

Karan listened intently for another few moments before answering. Finally, he turned to her, his face dark.

"They're out there," he said in a low voice. "They're looking for you."

Her eyes opened wide and she reached out and grasped Karan.

"Don't let them find me, lord!" she begged.

Karan put his arms around her, holding her tightly to him.

"Never," he whispered. "We have some time. But not much." He looked at her, smoothing her unruly hair off her face.

"I'll bring you into the port city tomorrow. I'll put you on a ship to the Veltlands. You'll be safe living with my kinsmen. They'll take you in if you tell them I sent you."

But Ariana released a strangled wail and buried her face into Karan's chest.

"No, my lord!" she cried. "I can't leave you! Please!" She began to sob.

Karan stroked her hair, silently cursing the Pierran beasts. How he did want to take her himself to his homeland and live peacefully among his own. But he couldn't leave. Not without Lara. He lifted her Ariana from him and tilted her face up toward his.

"There's another way," he said gently. "I know an old conjuror, Nedda, whose son I once rescued from death in battle. She'll do anything for me. I'll ask her for a potion to change your appearance. I know one exists. When the Pierran dogs come here several days from now, they'll see only my wife, not the runaway slave they seek."

Ariana sniffled, and when Karan released her, she fell against him. "I'll take it, my lord," she breathed. "Anything to stay with you."

Karan embraced her again and caressed her hair.

"I'm sorry, Ariana," he said sadly. "I wish I could take you myself. I would bring you back to the Veltlands and live with you as husband and wife. But I cannot."

She raised herself up and looked into Karan's face, his chiseled features etched heavily with unspoken grief. She reached up and stroked his beard and branded cheek.

"Why not, my lord? What is it?"

Karan sighed deeply. He had not wanted to speak about Lara because of the pain. To say her name was to relive the horrors as if they had just happened. He could still hear Lara's screams as her mother fell under a Pierran blade, and feel the bite of the lash and burning of the branding iron as it seared his flesh.

"It's Lara," he said. "My daughter. She's...trapped in the palace. They took her for a slave. She's about to reach eighteen and will suffer the same as you did in the palace haram."

Ariana let out a cry and grasped Karan's arm.

"No!" she cried softly. She pictured a young woman, alone and frightened, being preyed on by other slaves, both men and women, as well as the ministers and royals. They would force her to her knees, whip her and make her spread her legs wide open for all the court to see at once while another slave mounted her publicly.

Ariana knew she couldn't let that happen. Lara would not have Queen Maya to take her in and protect her and love her body in ways that were safe and pleasant. Galen forbid that Dogon would get his filthy hands on Karan's daughter!

She looked piercingly into Karan's eyes. "I'll get her out of the palace, my lord," she said.

* * * *

Karan looked at her. Had he not felt she loved him, he would have thought he was being mocked. Yet the sound in her voice was one of truth. For the first time in four years, he felt a ray of hope.

"What do you mean?"

She told him about the secret passages, and how she'd used them to escape.

"When you give me the potion to disguise my appearance," she said, "I'll pose as a slave for the king and take Lara. We'll escape through the passages."

Karan looked into her eyes. In their emerald depths he saw her determination.

He grasped her arms gently. "Do you really think it's possible?" His voice was unable to conceal the desperation he'd felt all those years.

"Yes, lord," Ariana said softly. "It's very possible. I'm the only one left who knows about those passages."

But Karan suddenly released her arms. He hung his head.

"I can't ask you to risk your life like that. I couldn't go on if something happened to you."

He felt her small hand on his forearm, and wondered how such a delicate creature could have such inner strength.

"I want to do it, my lord," she answered. "But maybe if you took the potion..."

Karan hung his head. Of course, he'd considered this solution a million times. "I can't. It won't work. No potion can hide the brands or the whip marks. I would be recognized at once and killed. And then Lara would be completely alone." Karan's shoulders sagged under the weight of his grief.

Ariana took his hands, squeezing them. Her resolve radiated into his callused skin.

"Please let me, lord," she begged. "I want you to have your daughter back."

Karan stared at her as if he couldn't believe she was real. His blue eyes filled and tears began to spill gently onto his cheeks and disappear into the heavy beard.

"Praise Lord Galen," he whispered. He lifted her hands to his lips, pressing a reverent kiss into the soft flesh. Then he held them against his scarred cheek.

"I'll take you and Lara to my home then," he promised her. "We'll live among my kinsmen, and you'll never have to fear another moment for your life."

He watched her eyes glisten with tears.

"I'd love nothing better, my lord," she whispered.

Karan pressed another kiss into her hands and then leaned forward to kiss her cheeks and forehead and hair.

"Just come back to me alive and well," he said.

Ariana closed her eyes and smiled at the warmth of her lord's kisses.

"I will, Lord Karan," she whispered. "I will."

CHAPTER FIVE

Ariana spent the rest of the day helping Karan prepare food and learning how to sew a shift for herself out of fur skins. Crouched by the fire next to Karan, she watched, fascinated, as he deftly pulled a large needle in and out of the skins and in very little time produced a shift for her. She was delighted as she pulled it on over her head. It was by far the warmest and most concealing item of clothing she'd worn in many years and she spent a long time stroking the smooth leather and cozy fur.

In that same day, Karan taught her how to make a fire, boil water, and cook grains for their morning porridge. He showed her how to pluck birds before cooking them and how to skin an animal, roast the meat and make broth from the bones. After their evening meal, they sat by the fire, drinking warm mead and discussing their plan to rescue Lara. Then they made love again and fell asleep by the crackling fire.

The next morning, Karan left for the port city with a promise to return by sundown. But before he left, he showed Ariana a hiding place down by the water pool where she would never be found if someone came looking there. But, he assured her, his senses had told him they had at least one more day.

Ariana spent the time sweeping the floor of the cave and shaking the dust from the skins they slept on. She cooked some more food the way Karan had shown her, and she loved him all the more for having taught her. She felt a growing sense of peace in gaining useful skills.

As he had promised, Karan returned just as the third Weiran sun was sinking below the horizon.

Ariana ran to him and squeezed him in an eager embrace. Karan was tired from his travels and sat by the fire while she proudly served him the food she'd prepared.

When he had settled in and finished a cup of mead, he showed her the outfit of many-colored silks and gold bangles for her wrists and ankles he brought back with him for her role as Ilani, King Dorian's new slave.

But then he took out a beautiful comb, ornately and delicately carved from precious coria wood.

Ariana stared at it as he gently placed it in her hand.

"It's for you, Ariana," Karan told her softly. "In the Veltlands, a comb is one of the gifts a husband gives his new bride."

"It's beautiful, my lord," Ariana breathed. "Thank you." Tears rushed into her eyes and spilled out. No one, not even Maya, had given her a gift in her life.

Karan reached forward and embraced her. "On our wedding night, I'll comb your hair for you," he promised.

He held her for several moments then released her and went back into the pack. He rummaged around, pulling out a small glass vial. He held it out to her.

"Here it is," he said. "I begged Nedda's assurances that you will not be harmed by it."

Ariana took the vial from Karan and pulled out the stopper. She hesitated one moment when she saw the concern in his eyes, then tilted her head back and swallowed all the liquid.

In moments, her insides were on fire. She felt as she had swallowing Maya's poisoned sleeping potion. Her skin and eyes felt as if they were being scorched or torn with knives and she fell to the ground in a fetal position, crying out in pain. A horrible sensation gripped her, like thousands of poisonous insects swarming over her eyeballs, and she squeezed them shut, fighting down the hideous nausea that churned her stomach.

Then, suddenly, the horror ended, the pain, the nausea, withdrawn , like a rogue wave on the sea that dies almost as soon as it springs up. Ariana lay on the ground, panting from her ordeal, still unable to open her eyes.

When she finally opened them, Karan was staring at her, his expression caught between misery and wonder.

"By the gods!" he whispered as he reached out to smooth back her hair and offer her a ladleful of water.

Ariana shook her head, refusing the water. Slowly, she forced herself to a sitting position, resting her weight on her hands. She looked at Karan. "It worked, didn't it?" she whispered.

Karan nodded. "Aye." His voice was hushed, full of reverence in the face of the power of magery. "If I hadn't known you..."

She examined her hands. Her skin had darkened from its porcelain white to a deep burnished gold, darker even than the Pierrans. They were the hands of a Sinayan woman from the lands south of Pierra where the three suns shone strongly year round. The Sinayan slaves, both men and women, in the palace were prized for their dark, exotic sleekness.

She picked up a lock of her hair and examined it. It was now darker than Maya's hair had been, so dark, it emitted a bluish sheen where the firelight glinted off of it. She looked back at Karan.

"What color are my eyes?"

Karan moved closer and delicately took her face in his hands. "They're of the deepest mahogany, Ariana," he replied softly.

Ariana lifted up her shift to gaze down at her pubic mound. The curls down there, too, had transformed to the same blue-black as her hair. She lifted her shift up farther, exposing her breasts. The nipples were dark brown, instead of the pink they had always been.

Karan released her face and whispered his fingertips over her nipples, the curves of her breasts, and then down across her mound of dark hair.

Ariana quivered under his touch. She felt as if he were not with her, but someone else. With a sudden pounding in her heart, she looked into his eyes.

"I'm not me anymore, my lord," she said. "I'm someone else. I fear you'll love her more."

Karan smiled gently. He leaned forward and brushed his lips across hers.

"Have faith, beautiful woman," he said. "After a time, the spell will wear off and you'll look as before. Then you'll know how much I love you."

She sighed as tears once again rose and spilled from her eyes.

"I'll find her, my lord," she whispered. "I'll bring her back to you."

Karan kissed her again, even more tenderly than before.

"I know you will," he said.

* * * *

The Pierran soldiers came the next morning, as Karan's razor-sharp instincts had told him.

The third sun had just climbed into the sky. Karan and Ariana crouched by the fire, eating breakfast when they heard the men's voices growing louder as they made their way up the rocks.

Karan grasped her shoulder, drawing her with him to their feet. They stood up and waited as the voices drew closer and their footfalls could be heard scraping the rocky soil.

Ariana's heart trembled painfully in her chest, and Karan's touch went far to soothe her.

The figures of two soldiers in white tunics filled the entrance of the cave. They let out derisive snorts of laughter at the man and woman standing inside.

"What do you want?" Karan asked, his voice full of his warrior's dignity. He stepped toward them, still the general he had once been.

Their faces registered momentary fear and they held out their spears like staffs as if in warning for him to stay back.

"You know why we're here, old man," the taller of the two answered. He had golden hair and a cruel glitter in his eyes.

Ariana shuddered inwardly to hear Karan addressed with such blatant disrespect. She realized that the same magery done on the queen had been used on the soldiers. Nothing else could cause them to speak to a superior, no matter his lot. She remained silent, hanging back in the shadowy cave.

"We're looking for the slave girl," the other one said. He was half a head shorter than his companion. Dark-haired, but just as cruel-looking. "The one who murdered her Majesty."

"I've seen no such girl," Karan answered. "I live here peacefully with my wife, Arvit."

The first soldier laughed. The derisive sound echoed through the cave.

"Is that so?" He looked past Karan to Ariana, beckoning her forward. "Come here, woman," he said.

Ariana stepped away from the fire and came to stand next to Karan who put a protective arm around her shoulders. She endured the lewd gazes the Pierran soldiers raked over her and burned fiercely inside at the continuing injustice Karan suffered at their hands.

Several minutes passed before they were satisfied.

"The slave woman has bright red hair and green eyes," the blond soldier said to Karan. "If you see her, tell her she's going to the dogs when she's found."

Ariana felt her knees almost give way under her and leaned heavily against Karan. When the soldiers were gone, she fell into his arms, struggling to catch her breath.

Karan lowered her down onto the fur skins. Briefly he caressed her hair, then rose and went to a barrel where he filled a goblet with mead. He crouched down, holding the cup to her. "Drink, Ari," he coaxed softly.

She took it from him, fighting to keep her hands steady as she brought it to her lips. The sweet warmth of the brew calmed her and she sat quietly, staring into the fire. She felt Karan's gentle hand on her shoulder.

"You don't have to do this, sweetling," he said softly. "We'll find a way."

But Ariana gazed into his eyes, once again feeling her determination.

"There is no other way, my lord," she said. "I can't let your daughter languish in the haram."

Karan then lowered himself down behind her, pulling her back to rest against his strong body while he caressed her hair and shoulders. "I owe you my life for this, Ariana," he said.

"And I owe you mine. Lord Galen has blessed me."

Karan squeezed her protectively. "We must go tomorrow," he said. "Lara reaches her eighteenth year in less than six days. She will no doubt have been placed in the haram quarters this close to her service."

Ariana suppressed a shudder and let Karan's chest absorb the weight of her body. She took one of his hands and brought it to her lips in a soft kiss.

"Aye, my lord," she replied. "Tomorrow is what I intended."

CHAPTER SIX

Karan led Ariana down the road to the palace gates. To the fellow traveler, they appeared as a slave trader and slave.

Karan wore a hooded cloak that concealed his branded face in its shadows. Ariana trailed behind him on a length of rope. She was dressed as Ilani the slave. Layers of sheer silk whispered against her bronzed skin, and gold bangles tinkled softly on her wrists and ankles like tambourines with each step she took.

The night before, Karan had removed her bandages and made sure her skin was mostly healed from the cuts and scratches. To complete their disguise, he had bound her wrists and walked several paces ahead of her, with her on the leash, as was the slave traders' custom.

Ariana stomach churned and she struggled to keep a placid expression, her gaze trained steadily on Karan's heavy cloak of dark wool.

They reached the palace gate around midday when all three suns were at their peak. Guards and soldiers stood at the entrance, white gold-trimmed tunics brilliant in the sun, spears and swords in their hands.

One soldier stepped forward at their approach. "What is your business here?"

"I bring a gift for the king," Karan answered in a gruff voice from the shadows of his hood. "From the vassal prince of Sinay." He prodded Ariana a few steps forward. "A slave to comfort his majesty in mourning."

"We were not told to expect such a delivery," the soldier replied.

Karan cleared his throat. "I would not tell his majesty of such an oversight if I were you," he said.

A shadow of fear passed quickly over the soldier's face, and he turned to the guards.

"Have her brought to the king," he ordered. "His majesty will want his delivery right away."

Ariana desperately wanted to look back at Karan just once. But to do so would have been dangerous. They had made their farewells the night before in each other's arms. Karan had kissed her one last time in the forest before going out onto the main road. So she gazed steadily ahead of her, carrying herself with a sense of dignity that belied her inner turmoil.

Karan handed her tether to the guard and waited just a moment before turning back to the road.

Ariana sensed his eyes on her as the guard led her through the large iron gates and up the wide steps to the front doors of the palace. There, she was handed to yet another guard who led her down the airy marbled halls that had once been her home.

Within moments, she knew where she was being led. She fought to swallow the lump forming in her throat as the heavy carved doors loomed up ahead. The ministers had wasted no time installing the prince in his mother's former bedchamber.