She and Jayan appeared to be getting along better now. He didn’t think there was much liking or affection between them, but neither went out of their way to obstruct or annoy the other, and they helped each other with practical tasks, like erecting tents, without hesitation. He was relieved at that, as the last thing they needed was bickering to add to what was already a tense, unpleasant situation.
If only he could say the same thing of the magicians. Sighing, Dakon turned his attention back to the debate.
Sachakan women’s clothing had always fascinated and scandalised Stara. First they wrapped and tied a long, bright rectangle of colourful fabric, decorated with stitching and all manner of decorations from beads to coins to shells, around the typically voluptuous Sachakan chest, leaving their shoulders and legs bare in a way that would have been regarded as scandalous in Elyne. Then, if they ventured outside, they covered it with a short cape of thick fabric tied at the throat.
The cape did not cover bare legs and gaped open at the front to reveal the chest, so Stara wondered why they bothered. But the truth was, they did not bother often. Women rarely ventured beyond the walls of their homes, except in covered wagons when visiting friends. They were supposed to avoid the stares of men.
It would have been far more practical, and an easier way to avoid the stares of men, to wear one demure but feminine layer as women did in Elyne. But Stara had to admit she loved the wraps. They were much more comfortable, and she looked so good in them. Nobody in Elyne wore such bright colours.
As if the wraps weren’t decoration enough, Sachakan women also wore a lot of jewellery. Their chests, wrists and ankles were covered by multiple strings of beads, shells or chains festooned with metal discs. Their dark hair provided a contrast against which elaborate headdresses draped and glittered. All this Stara embraced with feminine glee, except for one thing.
A part of the womanly habit of wearing half her body weight in jewellery involved piercing. Vora had told her that most Sachakan women wore several earrings in each ear, at least one ring in their nose, and even rings in their eyebrows, lips and navel.
Stara had flatly refused to let Vora put holes in any part of her body, much to the slave’s consternation.
Father had better not have ordered her to, she thought. I don’t care how little it hurts, it’s barbaric.
At the thought of her father, she felt her stomach clench with nerves. She had seen nothing of him all week. For the first few days she had thought little of it, reasoning that he must be busy. But as the end of the week neared she grew annoyed. After so many years seeing him only on occasional visits, she wanted to get to know him better. Surely he wanted the same. After four days she sent Vora to him with a request for a meeting, but he didn’t respond.
The previous morning she had ignored Vora’s warning that it was inappropriate and left her rooms to seek him out. When she reached her father’s apartments a slave had tried to stop her entering. Knowing that he couldn’t touch her, she pushed past him.
Her father wasn’t there. She had returned to her rooms disappointed and frustrated.
Tonight, however, she would see him – in the company of her prospective husband. Smothering a scowl, she leaned forward so Vora could drape several heavy strings of beads over her head.
“So tell me, mistress: when can you leave the master’s room?” Vora asked. The slave had been teaching Stara local customs all week, and testing her all afternoon.
“After my father and the guests have left.”
“When must you leave the room?”
“When my father tells me to. Or if I find myself alone with other men. Unless there are other women present – though that doesn’t include slaves. And unless my father tells me to stay.”
“Correct, mistress.”
“What if my father says I must stay, but there are only other men in the room?”
“You do as Ashaki Sokara bids.”
“Even if I feel I am in danger? Even if one of the men acts, er, improperly?”
“Even then, mistress, but Ashaki Sokara would not put you in that situation.”
“That is stupid. What if he misjudged them? What if he left in a hurry and told me to stay without thinking it through? Surely, as my father, he’d rather I took steps to protect myself than let his mistake lead to a ...a misunderstanding or tactical error. There’s got to be a point where even he sees that unquestioning obedience would be foolish.”
Vora did not answer, just pressed her lips together in disapproval as she always did when Stara spoke against the Sachakan customs or her father. It invariably made Stara angry and defiant.
“Unquestioning obedience is for slaves, the uneducated and the pathetic,” Stara declared, moving to the jug of water on a side table and pouring herself a glass.
“We are all slaves, mistress,” Vora said in reply. “Women. Men, in their own way. There is no such thing as freedom, just different kinds of slavery. Even an ashaki can act only within the restrictions of custom and politics. And the emperor is even more bound.”
As Stara drank she looked at the woman and considered her words. What a sad state this country is in. Yet it is the most powerful land in the region. Is that the price of power? But I suppose what she says about women and men being slaves to custom and politics is true in Elyne as well. And commoners, though not slaves, answer to the landowner or employer. Maybe we’re not so different.
But in Elyne, nobody – not even commoners – could be forced to marry anyone they did not wish to. They could leave the service of a landowner or employer and work for another. They were paid for their labour.
“Mistress, it is time,” Vora said. As Stara turned to face her the woman’s eyes narrowed. “You look acceptable.” Then the corner of her mouth twitched upward. “No, you are beautiful, mistress – and lucky to be so.”
Stara scowled. “It has only ever brought me trouble, and is likely to again tonight.”
Vora snorted softly, then gestured to the door. “I’m sure you’ve never used your looks to manipulate others, especially not in trade.”
“Once, but it had entirely the opposite effect from the one I hoped for.” Stara strode to the door. “If your appearance is all people see, they have no respect for your mind.”
“Then they underestimate you, mistress. That is a weakness you can exploit,” Vora said as she followed.
Stara weaved through the corridors of her father’s mansion. For a slave, Vora was unexpectedly forthright. And bossy. Stara knew she was letting the woman get away with it because she was unused to dealing with slaves, and couldn’t bring herself to snap at them as her father did.
Now, as she reached the master’s room, she felt the knot in her stomach tighten. How will Father behave towards me? Can I do anything to change his mind? And what will this suitor be like? Should I try to put him off marrying me?
Her father sat in the same chair as he had the day she arrived, but other seats had been arranged around it and were occupied. Two men in richly decorated jackets sat to one side. She noted the knife sheaths at their belts that indicated they were magicians. On the other sat another stranger, in less colourful clothes and with no knife, and a man she recognised. As she realised who he was she felt her stomach sink. As if sensing her dismay, her brother looked up at her and frowned.
Then her father glanced towards the door and saw her waiting. He beckoned. Remembering Vora’s lessons, Stara lowered her gaze and crossed to the only empty chair, directly across from her father, and waited for his permission to sit down.
“This is my daughter, Stara,” he said to his guests. “She has recently returned from Elyne.”
The men looked at Stara appraisingly for a moment, then away. She took care not to meet their eyes, warned by Vora that it was considered rude.
“It must be a balm to your heart to have such beauty and grace in your home, Ashaki Sokara,” the man in the plain jacket said.
All formality and charm, she thought. Though if I’m a balm to my father’s heart, then it’s clear his heart hasn’t needed any soothing this week.
“Yes, you are lucky to have bred such a jewel,” added the younger of the garishly dressed men. Stara swallowed a bitter laugh. That was more accurate. Jewel. Asset. Stock to trade. Something you lock away in a safe place and only take out to show off to guests.
“Stara has been away for many years, and is still learning our customs and manners,” her father said. He met her eyes and frowned, and she realised she had been looking directly at him. Suppressing a sigh, she set her gaze on the floor.
“How old is she?” the older garish man asked.
“Twenty-two,” her father replied. She opened her mouth to correct him, then stopped herself.
“And she has never been married?” the young man asked, surprise in his tone. “Nor bred any children?”
“No,” her father replied. She could feel his eyes on her. “Her mother was instructed to prevent either, and did an admirable job.”
“Indeed she has, considering how the Elyne women behave.” Stara resisted a smile. It hadn’t been her mother’s efforts that had prevented marriage or pregnancy. Stara’s determination that nothing would prevent her becoming a trader had led her to refuse the few offers of marriage that had come her way, and magic had ensured that her enjoyment of lovers’ company hadn’t resulted in any awkward consequences.
“Sit down, Stara,” her father said.