Although the desert sands stretch far
Beyond the silent, pale horizon,
Their immensity is as nothing
To the new-born damselfly.
For fear and anguish are to her unknown,
Above the desert’s vastness all alone.

– The Canticle of Menkeret.


We are captives; bound and almost blind, Jaano and I, and virtually helpless. Our captors are not unknown to me; they are the minions of Darrakhai. A beastly, half human breed, fit for nothing else it seems, than to do the bidding of their cruel masters; coldly and unquestioningly. They act with habitual brutality and totally without scruple but often they fumble and fail. Their stupidity is their greatest weakness, indeed it is their only weakness but it is a fatal flaw. So there may be some slim chance of us escaping them.

My hands are tied but the hood over my head only serves to annoy me. I can just see through the weave in the rough cloth – enough to tell that we are in a passageway lit by torches. The spacing of the torches matches those in the rest of the House of Heshuzius, although this corridor, off the Lapis Chamber, is unknown to me.

Next to me I feel Jaano’s body; he is walking steadily and breathing hard. To reassure him I whisper his name and immediately a minion slaps my posterior, telling me to shut up. The thing has a gruff, bestial voice and its command is greeted with concurring growls from its companions. I estimate that there are five of them – not a great number and with the aid of my powers I could perhaps defeat them or at least surprise them long enough for us to make an escape. But I will wait. As we are still alive, there is obviously some purpose to our capture. Minions, as a breed, are stupid and lack the motivation to undertake almost anything on their own. Volition is something the Darrakhai have long ago bred out of them. But they are obedient and our abduction surely serves the designs of some master – a Darrakhai master.

My curiosity is aroused and while I admit I do feel some fear, it is superseded by my desire to know why two inoffensive slaves were abducted from the house of Lord Heshusius. We are his property by definition, making this a crime against him rather than merely a deprivation of our liberty. There is an irony for you.

As we walk and stumble, I feel Jaano’s shoulder brush against mine; he is still there beside me and I am comforted. Now we pause and I hear stone grinding upon stone, followed by a cool draft – a door has opened and we soon emerge into the night air. I hear horses and the creak of a cart or wagon. The minions it seems are gathering human cargo, for I soon hear the sobs of a woman before she is sharply reprimanded in snarling, bestial tones. There is silence and I stand still until I feel rough, clawed hands lift me and place my body on wooden planks which move beneath me. We are in a wagon. I feel Jaano’s body next to mine as he settles his ample frame down. I move closer to him once I am able to do so and he instinctively settles back against me. Soon I hear harshly spoken commands and the wagon moves. We follow a smooth cobbled road, so it seems that we are keeping to the confines of the city. The journey is uphill and of rather short duration; I estimate that only half an hour passes before the wagon reaches its unknown destination.

Rough hands now haul us from the wagon and my feet touch cobbles. It seems that we have arrived. We are quickly pushed forward until other hands guide us through a stone door. I have worked my hands free and I carefully run my fingers along the width of the stones. I find that it is considerable. It seems we are in some fine old house. We now descend a steep stone stair for several minutes; the air is musty and I hear the sound of dripping water nearby. We are underground.

At length we pause and I hear a heavy iron gate swing open on rusty hinges. I am pushed forward and my hood is suddenly removed. Although the light is poor the first thing I see is Jaano. Three other slaves are forced into the cage behind me and the door is slammed shut. The minions lock it and I see them quickly depart as though they are aware that they have just committed a series of crimes. Seeing that Jaano is unharmed, I scan the faces of our fellow captives. There are nine of us in total; four men and four women – all young and healthy and one frail old man. I recognize a pair from the House of Elalashaan and after making brief enquiries amongst the others, I discover that all the pairs taken from other houses. The old man is a keeper of books and comes from the office of the Darrakhai state archives. This is most curious, as is the fact that we are all slaves from the upper echelons – musicians, skilled pleasure slaves, dancers and personal servants of the chamber.

None of the slaves have any idea what fate awaits us and the fear they feel is palpable. I advise them all to be calm and quiet while Jaano and I settle down where we can watch the room’s two entrances. One is an arched portal without a door; whence we entered. The other seems to be the entrance to a passageway. Dim light comes from it and I can see the flicker of torches just beyond the threshold. The iron cage we are held in reaches to the ceiling and occupies one corner of this solid stone room – making escape highly unlikely. The room is otherwise damp and featureless.

Hours pass and little is said; the silence is only broken by the distant drip of water. I estimate that the hour of dawn must be close at hand. Jaano suggests that I sleep; I refuse then find that I make the same suggestion to him a few minutes later. He smiles with some irony and puts his arm around me. His smile warms my heart and is as welcome as a lone flower in the desert wastes. Some of the others settle down to sleep but I remain vigilant. There is some great evil here; all my instincts tell me so, but until the time comes when we must confront it, we can do little but wait.

Faintly now, from somewhere in the depths of this subterranean place I hear a sound; it is a scream. My fellow slaves do not hear it and Jaano only notices that I am suddenly tense. The sound rings out again after a while; seemingly louder and this time, several of the slaves notice it. They tremble and stare at the corridor. There is silence until approaching torchlight is seen and a group of minions emerge from the tunnel carrying a heavy, covered form between them. The shape is that of a body but the volume of coarse cloth covering it does not allow me to confirm this. The foul minions carry their burden up the stone stair clumsily and exit; disappearing, I presume, into the early morning gloom.

The slaves huddle closer together but they wisely remain silent. Moments pass and there are further faint screams from beyond the corridor; male screams, indicative of some dire fate. Jaano looks at me and I do my best to reassure him but all we can do is wait and watch. After several minutes the minions return and hurriedly enter the corridor. When they emerge again, they carry another covered form. One of them looks at us and smiles – their faces are profoundly ugly but never uglier than when they grin. This is a cruel, mocking grin; one that says – I know what will befall you.

Once the creatures are gone, Janno draws me close and whispers,

“Whatever fate awaits us Kayla, whatever horrors lie beyond that door, I cannot allow myself to go to my death without telling you that you are the quintessence of beauty, the soul of courage and the epitome of charm. You are a woman like no other that I have ever encountered. I fear our time together is short but if your face is the last thing I see before I die, I go to join the gods a joyous man. Kayla, I love you.”

Again he smiles and it is as the sunrise. I look into his eyes and there the sweet sincerity of his words is reflected.

“Such eloquence and such touching sentiments Jaano. I cannot but pay attention when people tell me that they love me and do it so beautifully.”

“Not people Kayla; it is I that tell you this in earnest.”

“I know it…I know it. I know that your heart speaks true. We have endured much my friend, you more so than I. The brief moments of love-making that we shared were sweet, nay, they were beautiful.”

He smiles again and I see the autumn mist in his eyes; tranquil, melancholy and mysterious. Tears roll down his cheeks and to his credit; he does nothing to hide them.

“Red blood, salt tears and hot sweat”, as we say in Mentrassanae, “are all a warrior sheds.”

“You have shed all three.” I gently lick the tears from his cheeks and his salt becomes one with mine. Silently I recite the rune,

Salt of my salt, blood of my blood, heart of my heart; this is Jaano, this is my love.

Another trio of minions emerges from the inner rooms and once again, they bear a heavy, recumbent form swathed in coarse cloth. This time though, the leader halts his underlings before us. He turns his unspeakably ugly features and grins. He then abruptly pulls back the shroud with a vicious growl, to reveal a head lolling sickeningly on a broken neck. But it is the horror stricken face of the corpse that strikes me most. It is twisted, bloated and discoloured beyond description. Jaano holds me closer as I stare at it mute with anger. Shudders escape the throats of several of the slaves, causing the lead minion to show his yellow fangs and chuckle obscenely.

The corpse is covered again and hurriedly taken up the stairs. It seems that there is some murderous schedule in place here. Once the minions have departed I fall to my knees and pray. Jaano understands and stands back; talking quietly to the other captives. I invoke Menkeret, Lord of Illuta, my god, and lines from his sacred canticle immediately enter my mind. I recite them silently;

“Thine are the powers of earth, of sea and sky,
Thou art the soul of truth, the universal eye
With which all things behold themselves
In harmony and know themselves divine;
All mysteries, all subtleties are thine.”

I repeat the words again and again, as is my custom, but as I prepare to say the next few lines, my mind’s eye sees a golden spindle of light. Rays of countless colours emanate from it and it shifts and glows with inner fire and life. Slowly, from the heart of that golden spindle, there emerges an otherworldly eye – penetrating, unblinking, dark and all-seeing; the holy Eye of Menkeret. Never before have I had a vision such as this! The beauty and the majesty of it are overwhelming; I am awestruck. A voice speaks to me; it is not my own voice but a voice that is lilting, subtle and serene.