Chapter Seven

No! No! Here comes a boat! They're after her!

The panic in the voices tickled at the back of Dilras's drowsy mind, and as they became more clear, she leapt up from her slumber, the words becoming coherent. Somehow, she had managed to also grab Mahir's sword (or had she been sleeping with it?), and stood, wild-eyed and ready to strike.

"What is it? Are you hearing voices again?"

Hurry! Overturn the boat! Do not let them catch up!

"Are you telling me you don't hear anything?"

Dilras scanned the ocean to the south from where they had come. She squinted from the glare of the morning sun bouncing and dancing off the water. Far in the distance, she saw a vessel, and her blood turned to ice. 

"Mahir!' she shrieked. "Look! Do you see that?"

Shading his eyes with his hand, Mahir looked in the direction Dilras was pointing. Without responding to her, he immediately started adjusting the sail in an attempt to speed up their progress.

"That's- that's not going to help. It will just change our direction. Should we try to go ashore? Except, if we can see them, they can see us, and they'll follow us. Oh, what do we do?" The woman knew how to remain calm, even when her heart was pounding, but she was very aware that if they were caught and taken back to Bharukaccha, they would both be tortured and killed.

Here comes Makara! She will stop them!

Mahir continued trying to adjust the lateen, but he was progressively getting more agitated as he struggled. Dilras watched him for a moment, trying to calculate the best course of action, then, dropping the sword, reached over and tried to help him, so they could head back to land. She didn't know how long it would take them to get back to the coast, or if the other boat was even in pursuit of them, but it seemed the only option. Her hands were shaking, and Mahir shoved her out of his way.

"Just let me," he growled. She was shocked at his surliness, but this wasn't the first time she sensed that his masculinity was being challenged. 

"Don't be ridiculous, you need my-" Suddenly, the dhow pitched, and Mahir stumbled forward violently, hitting his head on the mast and landing unconscious. Dilras had almost been tossed overboard, and she looked at her friend with alarm. After stabilizing herself, she checked to make sure he was still breathing, and then looked back to where the other boat was. There in the distance, she saw the ocean splashing far into the air in a frenzy. She wondered if that had been the source of the unexpected wave that had tossed them about, and concluded indeed it was. The water had erupted into chaos, emanating from the other vessel's location. Confused and mesmerized, Dilras stared at the scene a few miles away. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she noted that her body had remembered how to handle a tempestuous sea, because she was able to remain standing as she watched. Then, out of the disarray, an enormous, long serpentine tail rose, glittered like thousands of glass spangles in the sun, and disappeared into the depths. She then became aware that she could hear exultant cheering as the water settled back to its usual swells, and the other dhow was gone.

Makara! Makara! Makara!

Thank you, thank you. Yes, I'll go let her know she's safe. Oh, you're too kind. No, don't stop!

Dilras rubbed her eyes and shook her head. Was she going mad? She knew she had seen another boat, because Mahir had seen it, too. Hadn't he? He actually never said he did, but he was clearly scared, and in desperate need to get away. And he definitely never heard what she had heard. She looked over at him, still unconscious. She was just about to try and rouse him when she noticed something racing toward them, just under the surface of the water. It was elongated, huge, and she knew it had to be whatever it was she had seen by the other boat. This was it, this was the end. This creature was going to come and make them disappear as well.

The young woman braced herself for impact as the form came upon her, but instead of being rammed, a large emerald and sapphire colored head popped out of the water.

"Hello, darling. You can relax. I've taken care of those nasty people chasing you."

Dilras gaped at the creature. Her head was the size of an ox, and she had beautiful iridescent scales shaped like diamonds. Her huge body stretched behind her like a snake, and gently swayed back and and forth as she waited expectantly for a response from the woman.

The creature scoffed. "Don't you have anything to say?"

"Y-y-you talk? and what are you?"

"Of course I talk. Bah! Nobody ever listens to me! And what I am is magnificent. I'm disappointed you had to ask."

Now she knew she was losing her mind. Dilras was talking to a sea monster. Yet, this also somehow seemed to make sense. "Were you talking to me last night?"

"Last night? No, but the fish probably were. Or at least, they were talking about you. That's how I knew to come and handle things." Makara ducked under the dhow and emerged on the other side. "Everyone was quite concerned about you, darling."

"How-?"

Makara looked at Dilras's neck. "The amulet?"

Dilras touched the dark pearl her father had charged her with so long ago. "This? Is an amulet? I can hear fish?"

The giant serpent gazed at Dilras with surprise in her eyes. "You don't know, do you? That pearl has been in your family for generations. It was your grandmother's before it was yours. With it, you can communicate with any sea creature, and we are bound to protect you. And you will feel compelled to protect us as well."

Shame washed over Dilras. She did not regret what she did, but she understood consequences came with actions, and she did not think anyone - or anything- should be responsible for her choices. "I don't know that I deserve to be protected. I just killed a man."

"It's about time someone did. That man was disgusting. He was not my biggest fan, either. Probably because I've rather enjoyed eating his equally disgusting sons." Makara smacked her lips with satisfaction.

"You ate his sons?!"

Somehow Makara managed to give the impression of a shrug. "We all have our vices."

"But you eat people!"

Makara gave Dilras a piercing look. "Are you really in a position to cast judgment, darling?"

The point was taken, and the woman looked uncomfortably at her companion who had begun to stir. "So, nobody is going to catch us?"

"Well, the people who were trying to won't be a problem." Did she just wink? "We can't protect you when you're on land. But you're a bit of a hero among the fish, so most of them are at your service any time you call on them."

"I don't know how to do that, though!" Dilras was becoming overwhelmed by all this new information. What did that even mean? She was chatting with a sea serpent, and she was a hero for fish? She was a dancer and a fighter who dabbles in philosophy, and who had spent the last seven years being valued exclusively for her carnal talents!

Mahir's eyes began to flutter and he groaned pitifully.

"The pearl, darling!" Makara did a dramatic twist and dove into the depths of the ocean, disappearing.

Dilras didn't have time to speculate anymore. Mahir was trying to get up. "We've got to get out of here," he muttered with labored breaths.

"You need to rest. Don't worry. There was a sudden storm and the other boat didn't make it."

Mahir looked confusedly at the blue sky.

"It must've been the remnants of the clouds from last night," she declared unconvincingly.

Mahir settled back down, clearly not interested in challenging her obvious lie, and more relieved that they were no longer being chased. Dilras took some water to him, and he looked up her with a smile. She recognized that type of smile, and a knot formed in her stomach. It was clear he wanted to make an advance, one which was not welcome. She smiled weakly. This was her friend, after all, and she didn't want to hurt his feelings. Mahir shifted to presumably get in a position to try and kiss her, but then he winced from the pain. Dilras took the opportunity to shift the bedding around and scold him about getting rest. Mahir submitted to her deflection, and she leaned on the edge of the dhow, staring out across the gentle crests, trying to process everything that had happened in the last day.

Chapter Six

Dilras was exhausted, but could not manage to find slumber, even though Mahir's breathing had deepened. Her head rested on his chest, and she stared up at the black sky blanketed with thunderclouds. Her head ached from crying so hard, but at least the sobbing had ceased.

Distractedly, she fidgeted with the pearl at her neck. As she reflected on the last seven years of her life, she tried not to succumb to the overwhelming sense of loss she was feeling. She had no idea where her family was. In her youth, she had never had any reason to know the location of her small village beyond the fact that it was by the ocean. She wondered if, as they traveled north along the coast, if she would see her village.  She wondered if she would even recognize it, or if her family would even recognize her. Gone was the carefree young girl who thought if she crept up on them quietly enough, she could befriend small, wild animals. Gone was the girl who made up songs and jokes to entertain her family, just to see them smile, who looked lovingly up at her father as he taught her his trade and embellished folktales. She no longer had long, skinny arms and legs or a curious twinkle as she gazed about her world. Now, here in this small boat was a woman who had become strong and agile. Her laugh did not bubble over as easily and was tinged with cynicism. Her dark eyes no longer saw a world to love, but rather a world of which to be wary. Here was a woman once filled with love who was now sustained by hate.

Yet, as Mahir sighed and pulled her closer to him, she allowed the affection. The king had not completely destroyed her; somewhere buried within her remained a fragment of the woman who was quick to feel empathy, and whose curiosity was nearly insatiable. She both craved and was repelled by Mahir's touch, but he had always been patient and kind, and as they plotted their escape, she had begun to consider him a dear friend. She could feel that her entire body remained tense, however, and occasionally she would will her muscles to relax, only to realize minutes later that she was once again on edge. She tried focusing on the sound of the water as it lapped against the boat in an effort to clear her mind, hoping it would lull her to sleep like it had when she was a child.

We must get her to safety! Fleeing from an evil man!

Dilras's eyes flew open.

Nobody is following her. But we will stay alert!

She bolted up.

Wide-eyed, Dilras strained to look around her to see if there was anyone nearby. The ocean was like restless onyx, and the stars were still hidden behind the clouds. She held her breath to silence her panicked gasping, so she could listen for intruders. She fumbled for Mahir's sword without stopping her fruitless effort to see into the void of the night. She felt a drop of sweat trickle down her chest, and she could not be sure if it was from the hot, muggy air or the fear that was now constricting her throat. But all she heard was the water.

Mahir shifted and blinked. At the tension in Dilras's posture, he jumped up. "What is it?"

"Do you hear anything?"

He held still, and after several moments, said, "Only the water."

"I- I heard voices, or the impression of voices."

He held still again, his head cocked. "I only hear water. Are you sure you heard voices?"

Slowly releasing the hilt of his sword, Dilras began to sit back down, but she still felt like a taut coil, ready to spring. "I thought I was. But I don't hear anything now."

Mahir settled back on the pallet. "You've had a traumatic day. That kind of thing will mess with your mind. Try to get some sleep." His tone was gentle and when he opened his arms to beckon her, she exhaled slowly in an attempt to slow down her still-agitated heart.

"I'll try. I'm going to lie down here, though; it's too hot next to you."

After a brief silence, he responded. "I understand."

Even through the darkness, Dilras could sense his disappointment. She knew he found her attractive, and this wasn't the first time she suspected he desired more than friendship from the man. Throughout their friendship, he had never suggested they be anything more, yet there had been times she had caught his gaze travelling across her body, sometimes lingering on the roundness of her breasts or the curve of her hip. More than once, when he had been working with her on her fighting form, she could feel the evidence of his excitement to be so near her, his hands moving across her arms or placing her hips in the correct position. In fact, there had definitely been times she was sure she hadn't actually needed correction, but he used that as an excuse to share than contact. Yet, even in those moments, he had never let his hands "slip" and had never actually touched her in any way that was inappropriate.

Often, when he had been guarding, and she had been summoned to dance or otherwise entertain the king, the two would exchange knowing looks, sharing their loathing of the man, anxious for the day they would end him. Mahir was a patient teacher as she learned martial skills in secret, and commiserated heartily when she complained about the depraved way the king would subjugate her. When Dilras would rant about her Bhakti ideas and how she interpreted the poems she had learned, Mahir never challenged or disagreed, but would instead share information he had obtained. She trusted him.

Tonight, however, the memory of one evening when she felt someone watching her as she brushed her long, inky hair was preventing her from placing her head back on Mahir's shoulder. He never knew that she had seen him quickly move behind a wall when she turned to the source of the sensation.She had brushed aside the incident, but tonight, she needed to be free from the primal needs of men, especially when the desire was not reciprocated. Thankfully, Dilras knew that he understood, and that he valued their friendship the way she did.

After one more look around, and a few more calming breaths, she laid down. The newly freed woman felt tears welling up once again, and this time, she cried herself to sleep.

Chapter Five

It was humid. The air was thick and heavy and settled into one's lungs like a sticky film, exhausting even the strongest warrior. The night was still enough that though the ocean was a mile away, the crashing of the waves could be heard, pounding against the earth like restless horses, threatening to rush up the hill and trample everyone and everything in its path.

For Dilras, this night was little different than many other nights for the past seven years. When she was fourteen, she had been snatched from her fishing village and sold to the king of this city, where she immediately became one of his concubines. At the time, she had never been with a man, and in fact had still been gangling arms and legs and no hips, but that apparently didn't matter. At first, he only required her every few weeks, and she had been able to spend time with his other women, learning to read and dance. She missed her family, but dared not try to escape to return to them, and  had accepted that this was now her life.

On nights when she really missed her former life, she would place her fingers on a dark pearl that she wore at her throat. It had been given to her by her father one early evening when they were out in the boat pulling fish in from the nets. At the time, she didn't understand why he had been so somber while giving the gift. He had told her it was important that she never lost it, and to always wear it around her neck. It became the only token remaining of a simpler life, a life without glamour, but a life of freedom and genuine affection. Often she would blink back tears, and sigh with resolve. There was no going back, no choice but to harden her heart.

As she devoured literature and philosophy, she began to increasingly resent her enslavement. Bhakti poetry proclaiming equality not only opened her eyes to new ways of thinking, but fed the seeds of bitterness. Though she did not become a devotee of the spiritual movement, she learned the songs, and as she would sing them, she would fantasize about breaking free of her bondage. Each night she was summoned would further cement her hatred for the king, and her determination to escape would magnify.

One night, after she had danced for the king and his friends, the king, wanting to impress them with the power he had over his household and the delights he was able to indulge upon his whim, commanded that she wait for him in his bedchamber.

Dilras, whose head had been bowed, quietly, but firmly replied, "No."

The room had fallen silent. Every person was shocked that she would even imagine to defy the king. His smug smile faded. "Excuse me?"

Keeping her head bowed, Dilras raised her gaze defiantly and stared straight into his angry eyes. "No."

That had been the night that the fisherman's daughter had learned to hate without reserve. That had been the night she realized she needed to learn patience, and endure odious entanglements to enact revenge. That had been the night the king made the decision she must be subdued regularly. 

When she had humiliated him in front of all his friends and servants, he rose from his seat, and slowly walked to her. His face was inches away from hers when he spat, "I am the master. You are the slave," and without breaking eye contact, he said, "Hold her down."

Three of his guards had descended upon her and forced her face down on the ground, one of them holding her head so her cheek was pressed into the floor. The pearl from her father dug into her neck, and the sense of helplessness as stronger hands dug into her wrists and ankles was overwhelming. Dilras was struggling to free herself, losing her voice shrieking, but the king calmly knelt down between her legs, rearranged his dhoti, and forced himself into her. 

At first, there had been uncomfortable silence, save the screaming of Dilras, but then some of the men seemed impressed and started to goad the king, cheering when he tore at her hair and bruised her hips. When he was done, he offered her to anyone who wanted a turn. She had stopped counting after three, eventually too exhausted to struggle anymore and just laid there, waiting for it to be over. When they were done, she had been forced to stand, and the king said, "Do you know your place now? You will do as I command." 

The following days, she had felt hollow, and could not bring herself to eat, or read, or do anything other than make her way to the king's chamber, since he suddenly required her several times a day, where he would force her to do degrading things. Then one day, she was returning to the women's quarters and the king's guards, who were in the courtyard doing martial exercises, caught her eye. She hid behind a tree and watched intently as they moved through various katas, their muscles flexing and sweat glinting in the morning sun. She realized it wasn't so very different from dance, and for the next several years, she would sneak to watch their drills and then practice them along with her dancing. 

One of the times she had been watching, Dilras was caught by one of the guards. It was the one who had held her head down.  Her throat constricted in terror, and she lurched back, raising her arms in a defensive posture.

"Don't be afraid. I understand why you want to learn to be a warrior, and I will help you." After that, Mahir had met with her in secret whenever they could, and trained her. He had apologized repeatedly for his part, and Dilras understood that the king would have had him put to death immediately if he had not obeyed. She learned that he, too, had been kidnapped and enslaved while still young. Their friendship, though tentative at first, started to flourish, and they began to plot for this very night.

Dilras was on her back, and the king's sweat was smearing all over her skin. After all the humiliating things he had forced her to do, this fact hardly perturbed her. Over the years, she had tried to be compliant, and while his anger toward her never seemed to abate, the more she pretended to enjoy his attentions, the less denigrating his choices were. 

She was tense, and trying to seem relaxed. She had procured a potion that she had poured in the king's wine, that would cause him to fall into a deep sleep. The effects had not yet taken hold, and so his belly, stuffed with years of self indulgence, pressed into hers, his pinguid face inches from her own. He was getting winded from his effort, and Dilras could tell he wanted to stop, but also wanted to prove she was nothing more than a vessel for his pleasure. His eyes began to droop, and the woman found herself pinned under his unanimated weight. She managed to squirm out from under him, and retrieve the cord he had used so many times to bind her wrists. She knew he was too  drugged to awaken and fight back, and she wrapped the cord around his throat and tightened as much as she could. His body thrashed about and she thought about her body thrashing against him and his friends, and his merciless assault. Resolve strengthened her grip, pulling ever tighter, hate flowing through her, emboldening her, and then he lay still. 

Dilras was exhilarated and scared, and ran as if the king's demise had already been discovered. She made her way down to the ocean, where Mahir was waiting for her, along with a boat they had taken six months to build in secret. Though much of her knowledge from helping her father fish had faded, Dilras was still able to get them out past the waves, and the pair hoisted a sail and soon were far from the city which had held them each as slaves for so many years.

She began to cry, and discovered she was unable to stop. She sobbed the tears pent up for seven years, and Mahir pulled her into a comforting embrace. At last she was free of that wicked man.

Chapter Four

Sohrab had discovered a new instrument. It was in actuality a stone that he was striking on the floor, moving effortlessly between a surprisingly impressive rhythm and chaos, but he played with such delight in his own cleverness, there was no doubt he fancied himself quite the musician. Tahmineh buried her face under the pile of pillows, attempting to dull the noise so she could take a nap to make up for the hours of sleep she had lost the night before feeding her ravenous son. She discovered she could not move, for the cat had settled on her back.

The young woman fought back tears. Earlier in the day, she had had another argument with her father. She'd walked out to the garden where he was playing with her child, and overheard him telling Sohrab that one day, the boy would help him rule Persia as well. After running over and yanking her son away, she spun on her father.

"I will not have you using my child as a weapon!"

"He is Rostam's child as well. It is inevitable."

This was an unending refrain with the king. Each day it became more evident that she needed to find a way to protect Sohrab from his own grandfather. He doted on the child more than his own sons, who themselves were spoiled and encouraged to be arrogant. He lavished gifts on the toddler, laughed at his tantrums, and indulged his every whim. The boy adored the king.

One fleeting moment when Sohrab was still an infant, Tahmineh thought there was hope her father might develop true affection for him. He was holding the boy and smiling down at him, and whispered, "Yutab."

At that, Tahmineh's heart ached with the same beautiful sadness she recognized in the king's demeanor. There was none who knew her mother and her quiet dignity who did not love and miss her. Sohrab's enormity alone was inherited from Rostam, but the green of his eyes were the same striking color of his grandmother's. That her father had invoked his late wife's name while gazing upon his grandchild told Tahmineh that he saw her mother in her son. But then, she watched as his expression changed from tenderness to greed, as he went on to say, "You have her wisdom. You will make an excellent general."

The cat stood and stretched on Tahmineh's back, then leapt off. As she pushed herself up, Sohrab waddled over to her, stone outstretched as a gift. Upon thanking him, he waited expectantly, and she handed it back to him. His face brightened as he accepted it, and then he generously handed it back to his mother. This exchange happened several more times, and Tahmineh felt her sorrow being crowded out by the intense love she had for this boy. 

"Leeder fet ack," Sohrab stated matter-of-factly.

"You think so? I rather enjoyed the music myself. But your ear for it is so much sharper than my own."

"Veel my nobba. Nobba wes do!"

"Well, now, I cannot argue with your logic, my love."

The boy sagely replied, "Monna muh monna. Ma."

"Then it's settled. Off to Zuman we shall go!"

Suddenly, Tahmineh's fears and the constant sensation of being trapped by her father's whims were replaced by steely resolve. Why had she not realized before that this was the only solution? Her father was never going to change, and his lust for power obtained through her child was only increasing as Sohrab continued to grow. And grow. Her mother's uncle was the vizier in Zuman! She would send word ahead that she was coming for a visit, and once she was there with Sohrab, she would beg for great-uncle's permanent protection. Yutab was a favored niece, and Alexan held no affection for Tahmineh's father.

Apprehension seized her, but did not overpower her resolution. She scooped up her child and hugged him tightly. This was the only way to protect her son from her father. She would pack only what they absolutely needed.  She had never ventured out without a full escort and servants, but she did not want to risk any of them telling her father what was happening, nor did she want to be slowed down by a large caravan. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew the king would come after her, so she wanted to get to Zuman as quickly as she could.  And they were going to leave that very night.