Neither of them broke the silence until they heard the light jingling of bells coming near. The new slave appeared, escorted by a furious-looking Jahiz. Her head was raised defiantly, but she refused to meet anyone’s eyes, staring at the wall behind the two men.
Ibn Saud broke into laughter. “My faithful Jahiz, I’ve never seen you so upset. Did this slight girl give you trouble then?”
Jahiz reddened, even as he salaamed his master. “It is only that you forbade me to beat her. She is most impertinent, my Caliph.”
Ibn Saud laughed even harder. “Then let me look at this wonder, Jahiz.”
He walked to the girl and put his hand under her chin, holding her so she was forced to meet his eyes. She abruptly shut them and one of the houris in the room gasped.
The Caliph’s eyes darkened. “I will punish you in my own way, and soon, my impertinent slave. Now, turn slowly before me. I would see what I have purchased. Jahiz, hand me a whip.”
The girl whitened while Lars held his breath. He would get nowhere unless she temporarily submitted, and he at once sent this message into her mind.
Be quiet, girl. I’m here to help you, but you must appear more tractable or you’ll be whipped until you won’t have the strength to walk when I take you away. Do what they tell you for now. I will not fail you.
Her gaze flicked up and Lars knew she’d seen him. And heard him. She slowly began to rotate, the bells around her ankles tinkling and her proud head held high. Her beautiful hair was loosely braided in a silken rope that almost reached her waist. Gauzy harem trousers stopped barely past her hips. Her top was of the same material, pale blues and purples shading together in a sheer fabric barely covering her nipples. Her supple body showed plainly through the thin material. Her beauty took Lars’ breath, although he strove to remain impassive. He heard the Caliph swallow as he devoured her with lascivious eyes. Lars had no doubt the Caliph’s cock had risen as high as his own.
Ibn Saud handed the whip back to the slave.
“My slave, you seem to be learning, at least a little. But do not mistake me. I am your master, and my desires are all that matter. Only the fact I know this world is strange to you keeps me from telling Jahiz to discipline you as you deserve. Ten stripes at least for a start. But then your foreigner’s weak spirit might be broken and I do not desire that. At least not yet.”
The girl shuddered but said nothing.
Ibn Saud stepped back, looking her over with a connoisseur’s appreciation and anticipation.
“I think as her first lesson in obedience she will stay and provide me and my guest as a slave should. Send the serving slaves away, Jahiz. I would have privacy for this first lesson.”
He turned to Lars. “Is she not beautiful, my friend? Does she not make your cock rise at the sight of her? Let me send for a houri for you and we can both sate our hunger as Allah intended males to do. I have never seen your technique when you bed a woman. Are you as cold as most northerners, or can you match my passion?”
Lars knew the time had come to make his stand. He’d try the peaceful way first.
“She is indeed a treasure. One I would like to claim as one last reward for my services to you.”
He spoke as calmly as if this were an ordinary request.
Ibn Saud stiffened and glared.
“What nonsense is this, effendi? I released a slave to you your last visit, and I consider my debt to you paid.”
“A thousand pardons, oh mighty Caliph. But at the time I mentioned that was a partial payment for saving your life. You did not disagree. This girl is of my race, and I would take her with me.”
He did not speak with supplication, knowing Ibn Saud despised men who begged. His tone showed an almost bored attitude of taking his approval for granted.
Ibn Saud’s eyes darkened and the two attendants moved a little closer to Lars.
“I refute your claim. The last slave should have satisfied you. You will not take this prize from me.” His frown lightened a little. “Or perhaps you can. I do not want to lose your friendship. But tomorrow night, or one night this week, my good friend. After I’ve thoroughly broken her in for you.”
Lars steadied his expression. A broken girl was not what he wanted. He knew Ibn Saud wouldn’t be cruel in a physical sense. He would not beat her into submission—he’d drug her with aphrodisiacs until she mindlessly participated in whatever sexual orgy he desired. It would not be pleasant for her even so. Ibn Saud was reputed to be potent for hours. She’d likely be unable to walk the next day.
Lars took another puff of his pipe.
“Would it be acceptable to send her guards away? Perhaps we could both explore her with only our hands? A game, my esteemed Caliph. Which one of us can arouse her the most? Then perhaps you’d let me watch while you further her training.”
Ibn Saud’s eyes narrowed, and then he gave a shout of laughter.
“You are very clever, Lars. But you cold-blooded northerners know nothing about pleasuring a woman. Only our hands, you say? An interesting dare. I will have her panting with lust quickly. And afterwards you will stay to watch me break her in. It should prove most instructive to you.”
Lars didn’t move except to draw once more on his pipe.
“Agreed. And we’ll have no witnesses to our little game.”
“Ah, that ridiculous sensitivity to being watched when you pleasure a woman. I’ve noticed it before in northern types.”
He turned to his attendants and gestured them from the room.
Lars had taken over the girl’s mind minutes ago, knowing he’d not be able to control her when she heard him planning her ruin. She stood motionless as a statue and Lars turned to the Caliph. This was going to be delicate. He needed to get into his mind and change it but still keep him talking and laughing so his guard did not burst in. Ibn Saud’s mind was filled with licentious images of what he intended to teach his new slave. A few of them shocked Lars, but he didn’t change expression. But at the edges of the Caliph’s mind also lurked the image of a beautiful dark-haired girl, her eyes filled with love and sorrow. Ibn Saud’s favorite wife.
A new approach came rushing to Lars’ mind, and one that could serve him. One that fit with the garments he’d brought with him. An idea that well might work.
Lars smiled at the Caliph. “Isn’t this much better? I do enjoy privacy, even though you think that a weakness.”
He swiftly entered his opponent’s mind. Ah, Ibn Saud did think Lars a weakling. Not a surprise, since Lars had been careful to foster that image. This belief made it easier for Lars and he smiled. He did not enjoy being inside a person to this extent, but tonight was a necessity. He quickly let Ibn Saud realize what Lars wanted him to do, and then stalked to the door and called to the two guards.
“Your master wants his favorite wife. Will you bring her immediately?”
Lars watched them hesitate and exerted a little more pressure on their minds. Reminding them of how the Caliph liked to play sexual games, he saw their frowns change to smiles.
Intrigued, they scurried away to do their master’s bidding.
* * * * *
Ibn Saud was seated on a nearby couch, talking to the girl about his military conquests, yet not quite oblivious to her sexual allure. A few times his randy self peeked through and he put out his hand to touch her, but Lars stopped him with an unspoken command.
Lars gradually loosened his hold on the girl’s mind. As she realized where she was she started to draw back in horror from the Caliph.
You are in no danger, my dear. Let him ramble on. I promise I’ll not let him touch you.
His words were uttered only to her mind.
Her gorgeous eyes widened as she spoke in a whisper.
“Who are you? What’s happening here?”
I’m Lars Erriksen and I’m in the process of rescuing you from this hellhole. I want you to promise to do what I tell you. If you do we have a good chance of getting to my yacht. If you don’t, I warn you, I cannot save you again. My powers are limited. I’ll have to flee and leave you here.
She couldn’t know there was no way in hell he’d desert her, but he longed for her to follow him of her own will.
She stilled, and fastened her beautiful eyes directly on his. Lars suspended breathing, feeling his future and his happiness depended on her decision. A ridiculous thought, but one he suspected was accurate. Even though the road to claiming her was murky, this was the woman meant by the fates to be his.
She sighed, searching his face with intense eyes. They were clear and intelligent and her extraordinary courage shone through even as her eyes stared into his.
“Tell me what you want me to do.” Again she whispered so he alone could hear her.
He hoped his relief wasn’t too apparent as he spoke again to her mind.
The Caliph’s favorite wife will soon appear. She’s a smart and beautiful woman and loves him more than he deserves. Her name is Falak, please follow my lead. She’ll be wildly jealous of you and the less you say the better.
The door opened, and a lovely woman entered on slippered feet that made not a sound. Her black hair was caught with an elaborate jeweled comb and fell to her waist. The door closed behind her as the guards salaamed and left. Her dark eyes flared when she saw the blonde girl. She started to salaam to Ibn Saud, but he only grinned at her foolishly and began to hum the tune to a ribald song. Wary, she turned to Lars.
He immediately made her a deep salaam.
“Why was I summoned, effendi? I know you as a sometimes confidant of my Caliph. I know this—this piece of foreign offal is his choice for tonight. Why am I here? I will kill myself before watching him pleasure another woman. Nor will I give myself to you for the night, as I suspect is his plan.”
Lars thought she meant every word. Knowing she would find his new slave with her master, she’d doubtless secreted poison somewhere on her body. He’d misjudged the depth of her love for her unfaithful Caliph. Still, this devotion made it more likely she would help in his plan.
He allowed the tips of his peaked ears to show more prominently and Falak put her hands to her mouth and gasped.
“I’ve put a slight spell on your Caliph. No, do not reach for your dagger. I have more power than you know. I mean him no harm, nor you. But this girl is mine. He would not acknowledge my claim. I will lift the spell as soon as we are gone from here, but I need your help in getting us both away.”
Falak stood perfectly still and Lars knew she was reviewing her options.
“Your choice, oh esteemed First Wife. Help us and you need never see me or the girl again. Refuse me and I can use my magic to deepen the spell on your Caliph into near insanity.”
He suddenly swept his hair from his face so that his pointed ears were more noticeable.
“Will you deny the power of a hereditary elf?”
Lars spoke in Arabic, and he knew the blonde girl understood a little of what he said. Intelligent as she was, and after being in Arab hands for several weeks, she’d doubtless caught a few words. He’d seen her eyes widen as he’d swept back his hair. Good, he needed them both to be in awe of him.
Falak gasped. “My lord,” she murmured as she salaamed so low her forehead touched the floor.
Lars gently raised her. “I need very little from you, Falak. Then you can stay with your lord. He will turn to you in gratitude, and your evening with him will surpass any sexual delights you have known. This is my promise. I have no wish to do any evil to you or the Caliph. I merely want to take this girl away with me. Will you help me?”
She seemed unable to lift her eyes and Lars took her chin and gently lifted it so she could do not but look at him. She swallowed twice and then spoke.
“I will not contest your power, oh magical one. What is it you require, my esteemed lord?”
“Simply that you stay with your true lord until his wits return. And that you summon the guards when I tell you and inform them the girl and I are to have safe passage. When your lord is himself again he will want to know what happened, and you can truthfully say you saw me take the girl and leave. That I told you to tell the guards to let us go and you did so, knowing I was his honored guest. You saw nothing unusual and are delighted he prefers you to the strange slave.”
Falak trembled as she faced him. “He will be furious with me, my lord. He will beat me for this, even though he’s never touched me in anger before.”
Lars smiled and shook his head. “No, he will not, madam. I will bend his thoughts for a short while after he awakes. I trust you to divert him as soon as you can. He’ll be wild to make love and that will take precedence, believe me. He’ll enjoy your beautiful body more than he ever has before. In ways that you have not known.”
Her dark, kohl-rimmed eyes glowed as she salaamed again.
“It is an honor to do your bidding, oh noble one.”
“Give me a moment here,” Lars said as he stripped off his coat and turned to the lining showing a strip of dark cloth across the middle. Lars lifted the cloth away and shook out a long robe, the traditional thwab worn by the Arabs, a cloth for winding a turban and a veil. All in the same dark brown. Unfortunately he hadn’t had time to do anything but buy one from the local markets. Definitely not the soft robe he’d hoped to find.