Basic Information
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Story
ChildhoodHer earliest memories were of learning how to harvest her family's lentil crops. She could not have been more than five or six, but already she was expected to help in the field. She would pull the plants up one by one, shaking the dirt free, and soon, she had a bundle over one shoulder to carry back out of the field, where the plants would be spread out thin to dry. She was taught to thresh the plants by stuffing them into thin muslin bags and beating the bags with sticks.
While they never went hungry, often they did not have much. Meals were typically lentil soup or some sort of gruel, and sometimes dense coarse grained bread.
She remembered her mother as being an eternally weary, but gentle woman. Her father; stern and tall, with salt and pepper hair and grey streaking his beard. Her mother taught her everything, how to keep a house, how to cook and sew. Her father, while he could seem cold and removed at times, was never unkind to her, or her mother and siblings.
Her mother made pottery, that would be taken into town to be sold. Between that and the lentil crops, they scraped by and just made ends meet. She had several younger siblings, but she was the eldest girl. It was understood that when she came of age, she would be married off into another family, hopefully one that was better off than they were. All of that changed when the crops failed.
There was no food to take to market, and with the blight overwhelming the crops, there was no food for them to eat. They were forced to rely on what little money they had from pottery sales. When her younger sister fell ill, things became even more drastic. Her parents in desperation, sold Tahani. They were given a sum of money in exchange for her being sent far away for harem training. Their only comfort was the assurance she would be well cared for and educated, more than they could have ever hoped for if she remained.
Adolescence and harem trainingIt all happened so fast. She barely had time to say goodbye to her parents and siblings. With only the clothes on her back, and an old burlap sack carrying some rations and her few meager belongs, she was ushered into a lightweight carriage, pulled by two sleek pale horses. The journey was long, and little was said to prepare her for what lay ahead. The Sultan's palace was massive, and despite the desert heat, it felt somehow cold, all smooth pale sandstone and marble, and towering imposing spires.
She was frightened, and felt completely out of her element. Harem training was hard. She was taught that her self worth lay in her appearance and how well she performed and served. In a sense she was more or less a slave, but better treated. The expectations were high, and there were several times when she was switched quite heavily if she did not do well enough. Over the years however she learned to dance, to serve tea and wine. She learned how to present herself, to have perfect poise. She learned to speak clearly, yet softly, with proper inflection. She was taught to sing and play a lyre and a zither. She learned how to dress, and do hair and makeup, all with the intent of captivating and enticing.
When she came of age, she was taught how to please a man sexually as well. That was the final portion of her training before she could be presented to the Sultan. She learned with 'props' taught directly by another older harem slave, rather than being taught directly by a man. It was the right of the Sultan to take her maidenhood, after all.
When the time came for her to be presented to the Sultan, she was frightened. What if he was cruel? What if he hurt her? What if she did something wrong and did not please him? Thoughts had begun to race in her head, of being cast out, beaten or even beheaded.
The Sultan's favoriteThe Sultan turned out to be not quite what she expected. While he was an intimidating man with sharp eyes and a firm set to his muzzle, he treated her with patience and dignity. They had tea first before anything else, and he talked to her. He allowed her a cup of sweet wine and a small cake made with red dates, all of this before he so much as placed a hand on her. She had originally expected she would need to call on all the acting skills she had learned in her training to make him think she was eager, but his eyes on her, and then his touch soon had her nearly forgetting everything she had learned, turning to soft clay in his hands.
Not only did he find her pleasing, she soon became his favorite, so esteemed and desired in his eyes that he rarely allowed any of the other nobility to be granted her company. If they did, it was made known how high an honor it was to have an afternoon or evening with the Sultan's favorite.
As the years passed, there were on occasions, odd incidents. Whispers were heard. Rumors began to circulate. It all began when one of the men she was expected to entertain was rude and rough with her, enough to frighten her. The wine glass beside them on the table shattered, and the torches flared, catching a curtain on fire. She explained what had happened when questioned, but said that the glass must have been knocked over when he grabbed for her, and the curtain surely had just been caught in a draft, and was too close to the flame. The man, a wealthy spice merchant, had barely escaped with all his fingers intact, and was banished from the palace grounds. Another time, she and another member of the harem were startled by a snake in the gardens, when she nearly stepped on it. The snake was flung backwards, as though by an unseen hand, several dozen paces away. Both of them knew that something mystical had happened, but they feared if they spoke of it, they would be labeled witches. In the end, when a guard came over to ask what had made them shriek, she simply said that she had seen a snake, and it had frightened her, but it was gone now.
Bitter beginnings and violent endsAs she reached her late twenties, she realized the Sultan no longer favored her as strongly as he once did. He had received a pair of new harem girls, barely nineteen years of age, that had caught his fancy. He became more careless with who he allowed to be graced with her company. By the time she entered her thirties, he had stopped calling for her altogether, and it was rumored she might be demoted to being a mere servant soon, as she was 'too old' to be in the harem. One of the other girls claimed that some of the older harem members simply got turned out into the streets with nothing, rather than re-purposed. Bitterness began to blossom in her heart.
One night, she had been sent to entertain a group of four noblemen, who after getting drunk, got more than a little handsy. They grew bolder, and she tried to politely retreat for the evening. When one got angry and grabbed her by her hair, panic filled her, along with a rising anger. She had always done as she was told. She had served these men even the ones she found repulsive. She had gone from being a pampered treasure to little more than being considered a common cheap whore.
There was a strange tingling pressure all over her flesh, then a rush of heat. The man was blown backwards half a dozen paces, and the front of his fancy embroidered coat burst into flames. This time, there was no easy excuse. They were not near a candle or lamp, and a strange glow raced and danced along her arm. The man screamed, beating at the front of his coat. Several glasses shattered, the fireplace roared high, flames licking out nearly to the ceiling for a few seconds.
She fled.
She ran as hard as she could down one hallway and then another, in a blind panic. It did little good, for there was no where really to go. She hid in the harem quarters, crying quietly to herself. Several of the girls misunderstood the nature of her tears, and one draped a shawl over her shoulders, and another brought her a cup of wine to sooth her nerves.
Hours later, the guards came and she was arrested, stripped to nothing but her shift, and tossed into a cell. Despair welled up in her. She knew, now she was more likely to be executed rather than simply turned out on her own. The Sultan had never trusted magic users, and did not permit them in the palace. Women who used magic were considered witches, and witches were to be beheaded.
A chance at freedomA guard came that night, when she waited in the cell, cold and hungry. He was alone. Checking to make sure no one else was in earshot, he motioned her over. He explained quickly, that she was to be executed the following morning, but she had one chance to escape. He would take her out of here, she would merely have to disguise herself and pretend to be a slave, at least until they were well cleared of the palace. He explained that a man like himself with a slave in tow would be questioned far less.
All he wanted in return from her, was for her to steal as much jewelry and fancy clothes, as she could. She would need fine clothes to travel in, he explained and some of her finery could pay her way. He only wanted a couple things for himself, to sell since he would be no longer working and would have to travel far, as he would be a fugitive too, for helping her escape. Once they were far enough away she could live off the riches she had taken and even pretend to be a noble herself.
Sadly, she had been taught to trust the guards, always. They had always protected her, and the other girls. She did not question when the strange metal collar was clasped around her throat. She accepted it, even though it made her feel strange. The cuffs with small metal rings on them were placed around her wrists as well. Then, she was told to cover up as best she could, in a simple robe.
The guard took her out of the dungeons and back toward the harem quarters. He distracted the other guards by speaking with them, or telling another they had been asked to report elsewhere.
Her heart was in her throat the entire time. It was with shaking hands that she slipped back into the harem quarters. Most of the girls were asleep, a few were awake, but she lied claiming she had been sold to a nobleman, along with a bunch of her jewelry and clothing. They believed her, or perhaps.. Suspected otherwise, but knew that calling attention to her would spell her death.
She filled a bag with a variety of beautiful jewelry. All the harem girls had access to these, for dressing themselves up, either for when they were on display or when attending to the sultan or a client. It was not unheard of for a harem girl to be 'gifted' to a particularly respected noble. On occasion, one of the less desirable girls, or one that had made trouble, would also be quickly and quietly sent away, sold rather than jailed or punished in some way, as that was easier. Out of sight, out of mind seemed to be the common solution.
She could barely believe it when she was placed on the back of a horse, behind the man, saddlebags bulging with her stolen wares. The air even in the desert was cool, almost cold this late at night, and she clung to his back, squeezing her eyes shut as they rode away into the darkness. She almost held her breath at times, only daring an occasional peek over her shoulder. No one gave chase, and the horse, a tall and leggy dark colored animal, ran tirelessly for what felt like hours.
They did not stop until that morning, and made camp. It was so strange being out away from the palace. Where they stopped was a tiny oasis, often used by merchants. There was no water this time of year, but a small amount of shade from a few scraggly trees and an outcropping of rock. She ate her meager rations and drank stale warm water without complaint. It was better than being dead, but she longed for fresh fruits and a cup of sweet wine.
Something still nagged at her. Her rescuer was a handsome fellow, a tall Canine with short dark chocolate and cream fur. His eyes were the color of old steel. He had been kind to her, but he seemed cold now. He smiled, and it did not reach his eyes. He told her they would reach their first city, and they would have a nice big meal at an inn, and she would rest in a real bed. He barely spoke when they were on the road again, other than to snap at her when she complained of being sore from riding so far. That second night, he apologized for being short, and even made her a cup of tea, which she drank gladly, even though it had a faint bitter aftertaste. She blamed it on the man just not being good at fixing tea.
She was surprised at how drowsy she felt, and in moments was stretching out, drifting off to sleep. She awoke a short while later, fuzzy headed and disoriented. He was pushing her onto the back of the horse, but face down. Her arms and legs were tied, as was her muzzle. He told her she was foolish, that he was going to sell her to slavers he was meeting in the city. She would fetch a fine price, as would all her finery, some of which he would be selling at their next stop. He laughed at her struggles as she was lashed to the back of the horse, as though she was little more than a sack of provisions.
She tried to tap into that strange power she had called on before. She tried to call on fire, or some means to topple the man off his horse. She envisioned daggers striking him in the back. Nothing happened. It was as though something was stopping her. She remembered the collar. How strange it had felt when she put it on.
The vile man that she thought had been her savior leered at her once they reached the Oasis, a tall sandstone building surrounded by greenery. He prepared to untie her, and grinned, teeth close to her face when he saw her tensing, as though ready to bolt. He grabbed her chin roughly. A dagger was pulled, and he let it ghost lightly under her throat.
"If you try to run girl, you will spend the next few hours of your slow death regretting it."
Tears welled in her eyes as he untied her, handling her roughly and roaming his wretched paws over her body in the process. He muttered something about maybe 'trying her out' a time or two before she was sold.
He tore away the robe she had been using to cover with, leaving her scant clad body on display. A long strip of silk was slipped through the ring on the front of the collar, giving her a short leash for him to lead her with, as though she was his dog. He warned again, giving her a few gruesome descriptions of what might happen to her should she fight back or speak out, and yanked her along.
He paid for a room, and lead her down a long hallway. He was easily twice her size. There was no way she could get away without her magic. Slavery was allowed here as well, and the collar marked her a slave. Head down, she had almost resigned to her fate, when she saw a figure with long curling horns, in formal robes. He looked elderly, as was coming the opposite way down the hall. Would he help her? She weighed her options, and took a dangerous gamble, stretching a hand out to the stranger, and calling out for help, with wide, frightened, tear filled eyes.
