Winds of Change(Open)

[Briseis of Carnia]

She was alone, of that there was absolutely no doubt. It was such a strange new thing. When she had been a slave, she was apart of something, if only in their eyes as a toy, at least amongst her fellows. She was apart of a family, each person a brother, a father, a mother, a sister, an aunt or uncle, at the very least, like a distant cousin even though many were not blood related. Each of them treated each other with kindness, with respect and with the tenderness of a tightly woven family.

It was a very rarity that someone was set free but she had seen it at least two times in her life and pitied the person each time for they were no longer part of the family, no longer owned by a family. Free to do as they wished, free to be their own person. They were completely alone. Shunned by those who had once been their peers, only because now they had risen to above the status of a slave. They could not be looked in the eye, nor talked to. Not because they wished it that way, but those were the rules and while rules were sometimes broken, it was not very often. Death before dishonor, that had been the slaves motto, not thrust upon them, but taken up. Many had been born into that life, never seeking a different way for that was all they had ever known. Yet it was sad to have to shun those you once and still loved like family, to see them curl up in despair to be shunned by those you called kin and even those you had once served. For while being free meant you could do as you wished, it did not mean you were accepted. In societies eyes, you were still a slave despite your freedom, something to turn your nose down upon and ignored.

Then it had happened to her. Sick near to the point of death with the miscarriage of her child, those who had grouped around her to give her strength suddenly disbursed like a bubble burst, seeming repulsed by her. Though she had worked hard as the midwife's apprentice and had earned society respect as the new midwife of Carnia when the old woman had passed. There lingered a repulsion on the wind, walls echoing, drumming a beat she did not like and could not escape. Until now..

Skye was so different then Carnia. Though both lands were islands, the people were so different. The Duchess herself, confused and frightened Briseis. She was so welcoming, so...open. She would of been whipped or made to stand in a tiny square carved on the ground for hours, despite the weather outside for breaking something in the noble's house and here the Duchess had dismissed it, waving her hand, dismissing it as something she hadn't even liked. The people even scared and baffled her, so free, none judging. Had there ever been slavery in Skye? If there had, was it so long ago that the people had forgotten their contempt for the lesser beings? Would Carnia ever reach that?

These were the things she thought of as she roamed the beach, picking up the stray pieces of sea glass upon the beach, an idea in mind for their use. Golden wheat colored curls had been left down, swaying in the summer breeze still clinging against the island. At least she knew what this meant. Autumn was not far behind, creeping in like a slow stalking enemy, intent to seize and concur. It would win, it always would. But in autumn's coming she was reminded, with the change of season, the turning of leaves from green to gold foretelling the blanket of cold that would follow, she was alone....and it felt horrible, it felt wrong. Living your whole life as part of something only to be told you couldn't anymore, forced to create a new position for yourself, it was not a road many people knew. At least as far as she knew. Then again her loneliness was her own making, unable to break from the traditions of her life, she was scared about everything in Skye, unable to see the good it was doing her. Like taking the stand and opening the store. She had built her life on being tender and submissive, content to do the will of others above anything in her own life, not just because it was commanded and expected of her.

Slowly she sank down upon the sands, the sway of her familiar blue robes licking now at the wind as she curled upon the soft embrace of sand. Autumn was coming, chilling the breeze that lifted off the waves, only faintly, only distinguished by those who knew how to find it. It was a reminder of home, it was a reminder of who she had been, what she still felt like, it was a reminder of her loneliness yes, but the wind that blew in, were the winds of change. She just couldn't see it yet.

[Men of Skye]

Kamenwati was sent to Turas Lan by the reigning Amir of the Marinids… He had his orders… and was in the process of obeying… He watched the Palace of the Mo’r Triath as instructed, particularly the King they called the Mo’r Triath, the man at the center of the Amir’s attention, the best of his ability, given the security around such a man and his family.

His only resolve to avoid detection sooner than necessary was to hide away upon the beaches of the Capital City… Bare of robes from his homeland, he now wore the brown leather jerkin over a blue shirt… the tighter-than-preferred trousers kept him constantly tugging at the legs, crotch, and waist… strictly in private of course. Upon his waist hung a scabbard of leather, in it, held the Bast-Egypt short sword of his ancestors. None, but the countrymen of his true homeland, would recognize the weapon inspired by the Goddess of fertility and joy… a head of a lion, to show her war-like side, on the handle tip.

The sand shifting thru his toes felt good… though much cooler than the damp sands of the Middle Sea or the burning sands of the desert. His mind wandered to the walks on the beach at home… paying no attention to the person he was about to meet.

“Hail… do not be afraid…” his words were in English, but had an odd accent… He had walked upon the female as she crouched down touching the sand. “May Allah strike me down if I meant to frighten you…” His hands were open, palms upward and extended toward her, demonstrating gestures of peace…

As she stood, and looked to him, he could feel a strange sense about this one… She was different than the other females he had encountered since arriving here… It was as if an aura emitted from her… He had felt the same, in his homeland, though he did not realize it before. It was the aura of belonging… of servitude… of slave girls.

The waves were a dull drum against her ears as she began to do something she had not done in years. Daydreamed. Not about her life but about people she made up within her head and places that only came from the interior workings of a truly imaginative mind. Except this place her choice was home, Carnia, the crystal clear beaches were you could see straight down to the bottom. Miles of white sand and water of such blue clarity that to just call it blue was an insult and yet no shade of blue did it justice. The smooth sea glass stones were slowly run through her fingers. What exactly she day dreamed was a mystery but that the calm upon her face wasn't even marred as her body shifted, her elbow found her knee and her chin dipped to an open palm as she let out a hum.

Perhaps she truly was healing, forgetting about the trials of her past in taking up her favorite activity of daydreaming. The drum of the sea was like the gentle pounding of her heart, slowing and yet not at the moment of stilling, until she the voice cut through the drum of waves as they kissed the shore, sheering through the daydream to still the beat of her heart within her chest for only a moment before the rapid pound had long lost the rhythm of the sea.

For a long moment, she was frozen, her chin had slid away from her palm to crush against the forgiving sand. Her chin tilted downward as she stared at the bare feet of the man. Do not be afraid... hmm yes, that was an understatement in Briseis’ case. Everything in Skye still frightened her. Slowly she rose, pressing the stones into a pocket fold of her robes, as if he would steal them from her, or as if she would be told she couldn't take them.

Slowly her eyes lifted as he spoke again. May Allah strike me down if I meant to frighten you… Piercing azure eyes found his outstretched hands. A demonstration of peace, she was not so much an idiot that she didn't know the gesture. Without thinking of it, her eyes rose to his face. She looked nearly like a deer who had sensed they were in the hunter's sights. Realizing she was staring at his eyes, unable to release that part of her life, her eyes dropped from his, her chin tilted downward again as cream pale cheeks quickly began to flame red in embarrassment. She had caught the dark brown tint of his eyes, honey gold in the outer rim fading out into the darker brown inside. She had caught the chiseled curve of his cheeks, the wisp of black hair that seemed to make his tan skin glow all the more. She saw much in a second which only made her cheeks flame all the brighter.

Nimble fingers clutched at the folds of the blue robe covering her form, seeming to hide it within the large girth of it and yet hanging near the edge of each shoulder, displaying the creamed complexion of her chest near to the tops of her breasts and suddenly she felt naked without her mother’s earrings and necklace, suddenly wishing she hadn't sold them to open the store.

"The Gods are not so kind that they would let you live if it had not been true." Such a sweet and gentle voice finally spoke up before she flinched as if someone had raised a hand to her. "I am sorry my lord...I..." She stopped, her face twisted, she was waging an interior battle he could not hear. Slave, her past whispered. Not anymore, her heart drummed. "Am I on your part of the beach, I could leave..." Again Azure eyes poked out from the wisps of wheat blonde hair as they flew into her face as she dared a look at his face again before dropping away. She couldn't help it. Old habits died very hard.

Yes, old habits did die very hard. And it was as if Kam could smell a slave-girl miles away. His journey from simple vagrant boy to the Amir’s emissary was a long one… to include former duties as a slaver and Chain Master… and hence the reasoning for his being on this beach… as emissary. The beach provided a mental and physical link between Skye and his homeland… Alone in a strange land and on such a treacherous journey offered enough stress to fall even a warrior from the northlands.

“Allah has been gracious to me girl…” his chocolate brown eyes would catch her blues as she looked to him briefly, only to fall away as had been ingrained in her to do… and as a free male, his gaze focused upon the visible portions of her breasts. “I live… and well… save the fact that I am in this land that weeps more than a lamenting widow… I am healthy…”

Unfamiliar muscles worked mysteriously as he smiled and plopped down upon the sand, his hand pushing the short sword aside. Patting the sand next to him, he spoke softly… his voice robotically commanding instead of requesting… “Sit girl… do not leave… as I know it, this is a beach for all…”

As she moved, his observance of her could have made her uneasy, even though he did not wish to… His voice was not gruff, but soothing to the ears... his appearance was not of this land… yet not of his own native culture. “If my assumption is correct, you are not of these people… I inquire as to your origins…” he paused and reconsidered his request… “At least, where do yu call home…?” He found it easy to speak to people… at least most people…

She was chewing on her cheek, that much was certain as her jaw worked without her lips moving to aid it in sound of speech. She had noted his accent and his clothing. Neither matched, he was not of Skye lands, not born there anyway, and every manner of his form spoke of another land. So why was he dressed other than his own homeland? It completely baffled her. Why should someone give up the tradition clothing of their homeland when they moved to a new one? Her clothing, and her jewelry all spoke of pride for her homeland, well until she had sold her jewelry but she had not wanted to work at the Inn forever, she had wanted to do what she had been trained to do, at least in the latter part of her life. Be a midwife.

She was evaluating him, that he could see… His physical appearance was of a man from the Middle Sea’s southern lands… his clothes, somewhat similar to what was worn in Skye, or Europe as a whole. The most striking thing was the sword upon his hip.

"Weeps?" A feminine brow arched in confusion before she seemed to get it. "Oh you mean it rains often, Yes, I agree. You don't like it?" A grin caught her lips. She liked the saying, even if it had been confusing at first. Her smile was also for the man who still made her nervous, but only because she could envision creating a story about him to mystify the city children. Had she perhaps dreamt about this man and brought him to life? Ha! That was amusing and her grin stretched across her lips though slid as he sat and patted the sand beside him.

“Rain…? Yes… rrrain” he pondered a moment, and when he spoke, the r’s seem to roll off his tongue. “The rain provides a chill that I am not use to… but rain is good…” the solid jaw moved, and the lips spread into a smile. And as he smiled, his chocolate brown eyes seemed to sparkle.

She couldn't help but grin at him as he pronounced the word rain. The sound of his voice was unlike anything she had ever heard before and it was further proof he was not from here. Though those native of Skye had a particular droll to their voices, making it sometimes difficult to understand then, his voice rolled smoothly in its accent. It was pleasant to listen to and for once, she was glad of the company, for once she began to relax. She was not sure if it was the tone of his voice or the smile he flashed at her; she was not afraid of him, not worried about meeting his eye. Her lips parted as he smiled at her, those brown eyes seeming to sparkle and she was at a loss for what she was going to say.

"I know what you mean, about the rain and chill. Carnia is unusually hot, all the time, autumn is a bit windy, can get a little chilly and it stays that way till spring but for the most part, its very hot." As she spoke, her head dipped to her fingers running against the sand before following up to the sword positioned against the sand just so and yet it was still attached to his hip. She hated fighting, only because it made her feel helpless, she might of been graceful in her movements but hand her a weapon and suddenly her feet didn't know how to work. It was as if her brain suddenly switched off in those situations, unable to help but unable to get out of the way. She was the damsel in distress in those times. Someone always had to rescue her or shove her out of the way.

Her body tensed for a moment, nervous once more. First a Duchess wasn't acting like a Duchess then...well this...she couldn't quite name it yet because she wasn't sure exactly where he was from! Yet the way he carried himself, there was something about him, like a master or an overlord...who owned slaves. He might be able to smell slave girls for miles but she could sense someone who had an authorities ring about them, especially with slaves, she had been one all of her life, had learned those she could push boundaries with and those she couldn't. This one, she couldn't quite put her finger on, he wasn't a master, but something like it was there.

Slowly her hand rose to grasp at her hair, pulling it forward and over one shoulder as she moved a step and then another closer and sank against the sand. Such calculating and sure movements. No mistakes, there was no room for mistakes in a slaves world, a mistake meant punishment. Slowly one foot curled to her thigh as the other curled back against her bottom. As she had been taught, it was useful to sit like this on the floor in case one had to bow quickly when the Lord entered the room.

He watched her movements, her mannerisms… She was more feminine than the most righteous of women… her movements were calculated, exact, and seemingly rehearsed… much moreso than any female here upon this land of rain and chills… Whether or not she was conscious of it or not, the simple movement of a hand to tug upon the golden hair was seductive… Her smile could be accused of being a siren… but he knew better.

Fingers brushed through the tangled wheat colored hair as she couldn't help but grin at his assumption and inquiring of her origins. It wasn't so bad sounding the first time but the rephrase only made the question all the more ridiculous. For the question didn't apply directly to her birthplace but where she called home. At least that was the case, if the question had been posed like that originally, as it was, she knew what he meant but something in her, just seemed to burst and she did something she wasn't well known for, she teased in response. "Well to answer your question in the literal sense, Skye is my home, the city, I own a shop, Baby Mine for expecting mothers and infants and I run a midwives clinic in the back..." and as quickly as the tease was there in the gentle ring of her voice, it was gone.

Even the best of slaves teased their masters… often allowed to seduce, or fill a Master’s urge to laugh. Kamenwati was no different… He knew this girl was no slave… in the past maybe, but in this land they call Skye, she proclaimed to be a mid-wife. “So yu live in this land?” he gave her a smile… then an awkward look came upon his face. “Yu own a shop?” even startled a bit, since most real estate was owned by men. His hand scratched his head full of dark hair. “A mid-wife?” his mind translating the English words to the Berber language and back again. “Ahhh, a healer of women with child…”

"I'm sorry..." She muttered before he even had a chance to scold her or not. Lips pressed into a tight line then released, this time she wasn't daring herself to look, to brush aside what had been ingrained into her very being, she simply felt the need to look into his face and this time there was no little voice in the back of her mind warning her against it. "You're right, I am not of Skye, I was born of an island called Carnia, an old Roman Empire, intent to restore the glory of the true Roman Empire..."

“Carnia?” he again scratched his head, his brain mentally researching the maps of the scholars. Then he laughed… “Those of the Southern World and Romans do not mix well… but I hope we shall be better than our pasts…” He lowered his eyes to the sand, and her hand fidgeting with the grains; then looked back to her.

For a long moment she was silent, letting her words sink in. Carnia was not well known, which was perhaps why the glory of the Roman Empire hadn't yet been restored. She bit the inside of her cheek, her face twisting in a mixture of confirmation and anguish at it. "Yes… I live in this land now, I couldn't stay in Carnia, to much of the past echoed in the walls.." Shifting in the sand, she pulled a leg upward and let her chin rest against her forearm as the other continued to trace nonsense into the sand.

Slowly her head turned upon her arm so she could look at him. Those strikingly blue eyes of hers moved up to his face, the sound of his voice, surprise in questioning her owning a shop. She couldn't help it, she laughed and the sound seemed to bubble up from the depths of her throat. "I do, I had to sell my mother’s jewelry, she made them, but I needed to do something, I was working at the Inn for room and food; I didn't want that, I wanted...want...to do what I was trained to do." She watched his face as he seemed to process her words and again couldn't help it, she laughed as he translated what midwife meant. "Yes, that's right." It was as if she were a school marm praising a child for a good answer. Her eyes seemed to light up as he spoke about Romans and those of the desert not getting along since, well a long time ago by what he was saying. The name didn't ring a bell with her, nor would it, slaves were not educated and the only thing she had been educated in was birthing babies.

"We are two strangers in a strange land? The ways of Allah are not of these lands, at least the population devoted to Christanity and the way you speak of it, sounds like you don't like it much here. Besides, you don't resemble the pale faces of Skye. You're tanner, and your accent...Where do you come from?"

“Tis not the fact that I like it here or not… it is different than where I am from…” He smiles… “I am from originally from Alexandria… at the mouth of the mighty Nile… but fell into employment in the armies of the Marinids in the lands of Morocco… I am Kamenwati… currently Emmissary of the Amir Abu Said Uthman of Fez… and he paused and eyed the girl… “And you are???”

"Oh then you're Muslim?!" She seemed rather excited to hear it. Odd woman? Yes. She had heard what he said but she was watching his smile. He looked less threatening when he smiled. Then she did perhaps the stupidest thing she had ever done in her life, her hand moved and her fingers brushed his forehead and she pushed a lock of his hair away from his eyes as it fell with the push of wind. Catching it, she pushed them back to join the rest back into place where it had previously been. She caught herself doing it and seemed to freeze, her fingers still outstretched and then suddenly jerked back and let her hand drop to her tracing in the sands.

Kam wanted to appear less threatening with this girl… and if his smile accomplished that, then he would provide her that sense of security… Then she raised her hand to his face… chocolate brown eyes watched, with no movement of his head. A smile crossed his face as she snapped her own hands back. Ah yes… a slave alright… Women here were freer than many of them in his own land. “Yes, that’s right, Badis…”

"Badis...hmm, oh yes, I've seen it, my mas- I mean, I've seen it, on a map. I used to love looking at maps, at other places. You're very brave, to travel to lands you don't know." She spoke as if she hadn't just done anything, her hand rose from the sand to weave against her hair again, an obvious nervous trait.

He caught the slip of the tongue… “Once a slave…” he thought… and began to trace an area in the shape of the Great Sea… then the Strait of Gibraltar… and the northern coast of Africa… tapping the spot where Badis would be. “Here…” then he winked at her. “Brave? To do what I am charged by His Highness, the Amir? Allah is with me my child… I fear nothing…” then he caressed her hand… “As yu should fear me not as well…” releasing it from his… dark eyes sparkled… He had called her child, not because of his or her age, but station… if that made sense to her.

"Ka-men-wa-ti" She said it slowly, breaking it up. "What does it mean? Your name? Kamenwati, it's very interesting. You're an Emissary of the Amir?" She had heard him ask who she was, but she was still staring at him. Obviously she had questions on her mind about him. Instead she smiled as she answered his question. "I am Briseis..."

He had to chuckle at her pronunciation… “Kamenwati means… Dark rebel…” he tilted his head and smirked. “My Father thought it was my destiny…” once again chuckling… “Maybe that is why I am an Emissary, so my Amir does not wish me to be home in times of strife…"

She did not expect it, him taking her hand in his and she held her breath even as he traced the shape of the middle sea against her skin...by the time he had traced the desert coastal plains, her forearm was all ready bubbling with goose bumps. Slowly her lips were curving upward into a grin as he tapped the spot of his tracing that would be Badis. "Really, there? Badis on the back of my hand, who would of thought." She teased while watching her hand laying within his own. He spoke about being brave, for doing what he was told and she found her eyes traveling up his arm to his face, surprise registering on his face, that he did not see what she saw. She couldn't help but hum in a laugh as he called her child, it wasn't insulting, she would have agreed, it rather fit the situation.

"I don't fear you, not that I am talking to you now but fear is..." She paused and sighed, shaking her head "One of the qualities I cannot shake."

This girl had made him smile several times in the few moments they had been together. But he attempted to resolve some of her fears… “Girl, fear is associated to explicit behaviors of escape and avoidance, whereas anxiety is the result of threats which are perceived to be uncontrollable or unavoidable... none of which is necessary.”

Pausing… “Worth noting is that fear always relates to events that the future may hold; such as worsening of a situation, or carry-over of a situation that is unacceptable.” Watching her expression… “Experiences of fear are, by their very nature, impacting and, in this way, can remain in the unconscious mind long after exposure; where they may then manifest as nightmares.”

A slight cant of his head, trying to evaluate her… to learn her… He tempted fate. “Many free women are fearless to a point, unless provided a reason to fear… unlike the slavegirl… who fears… everything… Not the fear of dying, or being beaten, but the righteous fear of being able to stay with a good master or be sold at a whim… to lose a home and have nothing… to feel abandoned, to be set free, or to be kept and nurtured by her Master.” Again he sat and looked at her… only to have his hand taken…

She continued as she reached for his hand, her fingers curling against his palm as she turned easily within the sand to face him as her other hand rose and she used a single finger to trace the same pattern upon his hand, photographic memory, she easily curved the path of the middle sea, Italy then there in the middle, between Italy and Greece, she pressed her finger, just a tiny dot "Carnia" the way she spoke the name rolled off her tongue in such a strange lisp, the accent of her homeland plan when she spoke pride in it. Striking blue eyes rose to meet chocolate ones and she smiled as she turned his hand over in hers. "Yes brave...see look.." Her eyes dropped from his as she used a single finger to trace one of the lines upon his palm.

Lightning from her fingertips… that what her touch felt like… He shook his head to bring himself to look at her tracings instead of her eyes and hair. “I could have stopped there upon my many travels…” he teased… “But being so small it might have been an unscheduled stop…” followed by a muffled chuckle.

"This one says you are very brave and very, what is the English word.." She paused to think. "noble, em, a hero?" Her eyes rose to his again. "Bravery is not just about standing up to a bully or tyrant. You walked headlong into a new world, to a place unfamiliar with a high head, I say that is very brave." She watched his hand as he spoke about Allah being with him of having no fear. "Brave with no fear, what do they say about people like that, three parts fool one part courage?" She teased as her head rose and she met his gaze then let it drop to his hand again as he explained what his name meant and grinned. "I knew that… here.." and she paused again as she traced another line on his hand. "You DO have a destiny, its just a matter of finding and seizing it." She released his hand then to drop against the sand. It was then she traced a line in the sand around his sword and what he did, surprised even the humble heart of the midwife.

He laughed and fingers curled around her hand. “I am no hero… I am but a man… with little fear… but I do have anxiety about being here…” he winked. “…and my destiny? Well, that lies with the people I seek…”

Her hand left the sand again, too curious this time to stop herself as she traced a finger in the sand around his sword. She wanted to touch it, intrigued by the design of it but she wasn't that stupid.

The dark eyes glanced down at her hand tracing the short sword… His tanner hand covers her white skin upon the sand… With the other hand, he withdraws the ornate sword… A suspenseful moment transgressed as the event unfolded as if her hand would be soon severed. But, lifting her hand with his, he places the hilt in her hand, covered now by both his… his eyes looks at hers… then releases both hands leaving the short sword in her hand. A smirk crossed his face as he thought of the law of his land about slaves with weapons… Oh yes, he was a dark rebel.

Her mouth opened as his hand covered hers and the sword was pulled with the other. She gasped and cringed. Had she done something wrong? Was she going to be punished for admiring the sword? Her mind worked through all the possibilities and then his hands were leaving hers, leaving the sword in her grasp. Had she been standing up, she would of fallen over, a weapon in her hands seemed to make her off balanced but she was sitting and still the weapon felt odd in her hands. As if the blade would cut her on its own, she handled it with care, fingers pressed against the blade as the other cradled the hilt just so as her thumb stroked over the lion head at the top before running down the length of the hilt.

“Are the Atreidae of all mortal men the only ones who love their wives? I think not.
Every sane decent fellow loves his own and cares for her,
as in my heart I loved Briseis, though I won her by the spear.”

He quoted Homer’s Iliad, giving her a smirk, acknowledging her name. His voice became soft and sultry… “Such a befitting beautiful name for such a beautiful girl…”

"What brings an emissary of the desert so far away from home?" Honestly, she hadn't meant to say it out loud but the words were out of her mouth before she had a chance to stop them. Her eyes left her finger tracing the sword to look up at his face. The question was out now, whether she wanted it to come out or not, she did want the answer.

“I wish I could say the beautiful Briseis… but I have been charged with a task for my Amir… His Highness demands information on some people here. I am to find out all I can and report back with all I know…” He cants his head… “But in the performance of my duties I cannot stay busy all the while…”

Her admiration for the craftsmanship was cut short by his words and she found her eyes falling from the weapon to look within his face as he quoted Homer's Iliad, not that she would recognize it. The most she had ever read was the late midwife of Carnia notes on the practice and even then it had been a challenge, learning to read. She felt her cheeks flame as he called her beautiful. Flattery and it worked so well, her cheeks flamed a gentle pink against her alabaster skin.

"That was very beautiful... as is she..." She was speaking about the quote and sword as she slowly handed the weapon back to him.

Yet again, she couldn't help but laugh as he flattered even more. Wish he could say the beautiful Briseis, her cheeks flamed all the more as she lifted her hand to brush through the wheat and golden curls, letting her fingers find the curve of her ear to push some of the curls back there and then the back to the back of her neck where her fingers came to rest. "You should have a line on your hand for flattery, you make me blush.." She mumbled though she smiled in his direction. She felt the smile slid on her lips.

“I state mere facts girl… yu make yerself blush…” taking a glance at the palm of his hand, then looks back to her. “The body reacts to an emotional state…” he smirks… “Apparently my facts sparked an emotional response…”

Couldn't stay busy though, she knew the feeling. It was hard to be a new shop owner in town let alone a midwife. "I rather find myself in the same boat. Perhaps the two of us can think of some things to do to occupy our time... em... I mean to do together?" Gods above, she said it and felt foolish for it but she found she liked his company, she felt more at ease with him in the short timeframe they had talked then she had in the last couple of months of nervousness in Skye and its people.

Chocolate brown eyes seem to soften… his smile formed… then it turned to a sensual smirk… “An invitation to accompany you? Show me yer life… I, for once, shall follow you… We shall investigate this Isle together… and in doing so, I may find my destiny…”

Information on people of Skye? What would his Amir want of simple people? Who were they? She couldn't bring herself to ask.

He knew she was a distraction from his duties of his charge… but the Amir, despised by Kam as he was, could wait… Here in Skye, the Amir could not reach him… He would find the King soon enough. For now, he would enjoy this pleasant distraction.

Standing, he offered his hand to Briseis… “Come child, show me…”

[Men of Skye]

Her head turned against her arm which curled around her to ward against the chill of the wind as it crept upward. He was smiling at her again, his smile made her feel warm inside, sort of like when she flushed and felt it within her cheeks but she knew she was not flushing now, there was nothing to be embarrassed about. Yet when he smiled at her that way, that sensual smirk, she felt warm inside, it started at her toes and moved upward until it reached the roots of her hair. "Show you my life?" She seemed surprised. She had said she was a midwife, what about that would strike him as interesting enough to want to know more? Her head followed him upward as he stood and offered his hand down to her. Uncurling her arm from around her body, she reached towards his outstretched hand, curling her fingers across his palm and pressing into a grip as she rose from the sand.

A grins lid across her lips, the surprise had melted away to excitement, for once she could show someone her hard work with the store. "Well all right, I will show you my life, but I guarantee you it’s not exciting in any way and then it’s your turn to show me something here of you. That's the deal, one thing of me and then one thing from you, it's only fair…" For once she sounded so sure of herself, so sure of what she was saying.

Kam laughs a bit… “Fair? Life is not always fair girl… besides, how can I show you my life here being my time here is so brief…” then he smirks… “Now if, and when, you come to Badis, I shall show yu much more than you would deem possible…” bragging a bit, but truthful.

"You say that like I have the luxury of traveling." She teased as the grin spread across her lips. "But none the less, if I ever get the chance to go to Badis, I welcome the chance to show you up on your boast. Take my breath away with my visit hmm? Make me feel like one of those exotic princesses I make up in stories?" Those striking blue eyes seemed to sparkle diamonds as the smile on her lips pulled upward to reach her eyes. "Fair hmmm" She hummed in the thought as a free hand rose to drag the golden wheat curls away from her face as they walked. "No, I don't suppose life is very fair at all, but people make it that way..and no one challenges it, or at least most don't. I know I never did but then again, I never had a destiny, not like you do." Of this Briseis was completely certain and not because of the line upon his hand, it was something in his face, the way he smiled, the way his hair seemed to move mystical like against the wind. It was his body and it was his voice. Something in him seemed to murmur in a low hum great destiny.

Kam just smiled, the muscles in his face forming a charming beam. “Yu could vera well be my exotic princess… and yer breath would be taken away. The desert and her glories…ahhh, yes… all that is Allah's would bow to such grace…” the smile formed into a smirk… “With such stories, many would be pleasured by those who lived them…” Kam then laughed… “Destiny? We all have a destiny… but to what great extent we know not… all we can do is form that destiny…”

Her fingers curled with his as they walked back up the beach to the streets that ran off behind shop and home buildings of Turas Lan. There wasn't much she could say on the walk about, to talk about the shop really meant they didn't need to see it afterwards and to see it was better, she could explain how it was and what she was planning on doing with it now. Instead she focused on how she was holding onto his hand, how she couldn't let go of it. His hand seemed to emanate a warmth all of its own. Was it possible he had soaked up warmer rays of sun in Badis and his body was releasing it now? It seemed a fairy tale to think of such things.

Her touch sparked things within… and his fingers curled around her hand, as they walked thru the streets. It was their brief journey thru the byways and avenues that provided, to memory, the way to her domicile and business.

"Oy Briseis!"A pair of boys came running their way one dark headed and lanky, the other was had a fair head of hair that hung to his shoulders, both boys looked to be about 7 or eight and dirty from head to toe, as boys tended to be sometimes. Briseis hand left his, the warmth seemed to seep away from her hand as she let go of his hand. "Hello Aban and Hello Gabriel" Briseis smiled at the boys as he held out a note to her. "Thank you." Aban grinned while the other boy kept silent at his companions side, for a moment they both paused to look at Briseis companion before hightailing it the way they came. "Oy, Bri you owe me a story!" Aban called as he turned, skipping as he turned to run backward to watch her. "An you owe me some work at the store!" Briseis called back and laughed as she waved the note in her hand at him. "Tomorrow, you do some work and I'll tell you a story, off with you!" Aban turned around and sprinted after Gabriel who was all ready turning the corner of the alley and into the busy streets of the market. She turned a smile at Kam, sort of apologetic as she unfolded the note and scanned the few small words upon the parchment before folding it again and stuffing it within the pocket of her robes. "Sorry, neighborhood kids. They are a big help around the store.”

Watching the interchange between the girl and the young lads made him smile. “I hope I did not scare them away…” and as she apologized, he shook his head; his long hair pushed back by a free hand. “It is alright… No reason to apologize nor explain…” Did these boys know who or why he was here? Did they even care? Just a few more people to have seen him in Turas Lan.

"I didn't want to seem like I was hiding things from you. I'm not like that... not some spy, just a midwife." The smile caught her lips again as she let out a laugh. "You didn't scare them away, I daresay you might find yourself being followed on the morrow." It wasn't just some compliment to ease him if he was worried about scaring children. An on they went to the shop.

Again Kamenwati laughed. “Could yu hide things from me? Nor would you want to…!!” he winked. “Maybe inside there are secret desires in life… Fulfill them…” he added.

"This way…" And she pointed as they left the alleyway to the busy street, turning right onto the street and into the throng of people and she reached his hand again, feeling her fingers weave with his own. "You wanted to see my life…" She reminded him with a grin as she pointed down the street to the brick building with a blue frame doorway, blue door and blue painted panes between the bubble window. "So this is it..." She spoke as she unlocked the door and pushed against it to push it open, the hinge was old and it made the heavy door scrap against the floor making it hard to open. Her fingers once again pressed with his own for a moment before she released him to move inside.

A smile… a nod… a following of the girl he just met not hours ago. She was eagerly showing her life to him. A humble life, free of turmoil… He looked down at the marked floor caused by the door, then looked to her. “Vera nice…” he exclaimed stepping inside.

Now she knew he was just being nice. The door scuffed the floor, the floorboards creaked and even with a fresh layer of whitewash on the walls did not hide the scraps beneath them but it had been in a worse state when she had bought it and so she was not above taking the compliment with a grin of pride even if it was far from completely finished.

The light of day did well to light the interior of the store, except for a few corners which were still cast in shadows. The right side of the store from within the doorway was all sorts of toys, from baby in rattles to bright colored spinning wheels to toddler with blocks and wooden dragons that rolled along the ground and upward to about seven or eight year old, toy swords and shields and such. On the left side closet to the door were the baby blankets and the baby clothing and further on were the oils and herbs for the mom's to be who needed help with the nausea feet swelling and the tummy stretching. It seemed the store was to have it all...if the shelves were not so bare, there was perhaps one or two baby blankets, one baby outfit, a few vials of oils and herbs and not many toys on the shelves. She envisioned what it would be when it was done. She moved inwards to the center of the store and shrugged as she turned to face him. "It's not much, yet, but I am working on it…”

Inside, his eyes quickly adjusted to the modified light and he began to look around, yet again committing to memory her life. “It is fine… vera grand it is…” he said softly, as his hand began to lift, touch, and feel the toys, blankets, and clothing. “Yu have done well it seems…”

"Now I know your just flattering me, very grand? Do you see what is or can you perhaps read my mind and see what I wish it to someday be?" She retorted though lightheartedly, he had not offended her in flattering her, at least he did not call it a dump, that in essence would of broken her heart. She watched him finger the items and smiled. "Well the toys were donated, in exchange for services, dusting, cleaning, mending but the clothing and blankets themselves, I made them, hopefully as the items sell and I get new clients then I will be able to afford to buy the items and fix the things that need it." An on she went to explain books and backrooms, like an idiot, she prided herself on her 'dump' in glowing words.

Shaking his head… “Maybe I can read yer mind…” followed by a brief smirk. “Yu have done well, and shall do better, I am sure!!” The statement may have startled her a bit, as it was more than just a comment.

“My exam room is in the back...and I have my journals of patients with my notes on the counter…" She turned to point behind the counter to a doorway in the back and a few leather bound books sat in a row on the counter, each itched with a name on the spine. She moved towards these as she pulled the note from her pocket and put it within the book, placing it just so it would poke out the top just a bit to remind her.

He turned his head toward her, the hair spinning about his head, coming to a point that nearly covered his chocolate eyes. Stepping around the counter, his fingers coursed along the rough leather bindings… pausing on the book she just replaced, the paper sticking out just a bit.

She caught the look to her and then down to the book. For a moment a puzzled expression crossed her face before it seemed to light up with some understanding, if not the wrong understanding. "Oh that… the note was from a client, seems she wishes an appointment tomorrow and I am not usually forgetful but the note popping out like that helps when I come downstairs."

Nodding his head, he said nothing… but his mind made mental note… his mission had take a bit of a turn, and thoughts remained secret. One last glance to the leather bound book, then his attention focused on the girl.

She turned against the counter as she ventured a smile in his direction. It was not much, but she was proud of it. "There is also a stairway just in the hall that leads up to a living space, a small sitting area and a bedroom. I can't afford a shop and a room at the Inn so....I sleep up there..." She was slightly hesitant to say it, she didn't want to sound like a slut, she was not inviting him up there for a sexual interlude!

“Show me?” as he turned from the book to her… her comment about her home made him smile. He did not wait for her invite, he just stepped behind her and gave her a gentle nudge toward the stairs… She turned to say something, but he was so close to her… face to face… and as she stood on the stairs, it provided her leverage to stand eye-to-eye with him. No words… no touch… only a soft exhale of breath, from whom, they were unsure… but the eyes spoke volumes. And as she looked at him, her golden hair fell about her face, and he smiled. She, in totale, was being put to memory; that was positive…

"Wha... huh?" That caught her off guard. Show him the living quarters? She chewed the inside of her cheek for a moment as she backed into the doorframe that lead to both exam room and stairwell only to feel him nudge against her. She turned her face shot upward to his face only to realize she was a stair up and able to stare him square in the eye as her mouth opened and yet no sound drew forth. She was unaware she was doing it when she learned forward, nearly lip to lip with him, those striking blue eyes crossing his face from left to right and again right to left, seeming to capture him into her own eyes, or as if she saw into his soul, she never knew she was doing it, never knew that intense stare was in her eyes but she was faintly aware that there was a heavy exhale of breaths, hers or his, uncertain as she backed up the stairwell clutching the railing which swayed back and forth since it was loose from the wall, not even the heavy creak of the stairs seemed to break her gaze away from his. She felt her cheeks flame and yet knew they were not darkened with a blush, in the small stairwell, the heat she had felt from his hand seemed to radiate from his body and catch her own, flaming it.

He could almost taste her breath as they neared one another… lips but millimeters apart. He could have kissed her righteous just then, but fate would have them only tempt one another. As it was, had she been a slave now, he would have taken full advantage of a Master’s prerogative; but life was not fair, nor would he impose upon a freewoman in such a way. The erotic moment was brief, sensual, and to all concerned, felt right.

She felt her back hit the door at the top of the stairs and she wiggled against it, trying to find the handle. Clasping the cold steel in hand, she turned it sharply and felt her own weight push against the door swinging it open. There seemed to be nothing in the small room at first but second glance saw a small hearth for a fire, for cooking perhaps as there was no 'oven', a small table on which sat a vase full of what looked like small pebbles(closer inspection would reveal them as sea glass, the very same she had been collecting hours before) and a single chair in the corner, a small cabinet in the other, the doors missing, fruit sitting in little bunches on the shelves and to the right, another small room with a lumpy stuffed mattress on the ground. And in true Briseis spirit, despite the intense stare, the soft if not hesitating exhaling of breathes as they stared at one another, as the door swung open, she seemed to find her voice and though it was as soft as always, it was perhaps the stupidest words to ever come out of her mouth. "It's not much"

Fabled? Yes… Awkward? No… His chocolate brown eyes stared at her until the door opened and she stepped aside… though they remained on her as he entered, breaking from her to scan the room.

He had spoken about everyone having a destiny, Briseis found it a charming thought but she could never see a destiny for her. There had always been reality. Was it because she had been born to a specific thing? Bound to obey and serve others because she was born to it? Never having a choice for herself? She couldn't complain and the truth was, she wasn't ashamed of her life, she just didn't want people to see her in the invisible chains she had been bound to throughout her life, to still treat her like a slave even though she couldn't seem to break herself from old habits. Except with him. How many times had she looked at him now? She hadn't counted but even when he wasn't facing her, she could see his eyes there in the front of her mind, she could see the exotic chiseled features of his face, even when it was turned away from her. She had never been able to see herself in any of the stories she created for children but there was something in his face, something in his soul, she knew him.

Had they known each other in a past life? Briseis had never thought much of the theory of past lives, a vague thought maybe of how she could create faces in her mind to go along with the stories she told but Kamenwati, the emissary of the Amir of the Marinids, had done something. Of what, she wasn't exactly sure and even as he moved around the small apartment above the store, she could not help but remember his charming smile as he said he would make her his exotic princess and she could see it of herself. She could imagine a story of a desert Prince and Princess where he was the prince and she the princess. It made her cheeks flush with warmth and she knew then she was flushing pink against her alabaster cheeks.

He stood there, unmoving… unwavering… His six foot, muscular frame hidden behind a brown leather jerkin over a blue shirt and a tighter-than-preferred trousers… in the scabbard of leather hung upon his waist was the Bast-Egyptian short sword. It appeared as if time itself had stopped. Only his chocolate eyes moved… examining her… as if to search her soul. What was she thinking? And he smiled at her blush.

Maybe I can read yer mind… He had said that too. If he could read her mind, did he know why her cheeks were as flushed as they were now? It caused her embarrassment to wonder such now and she was glad for the distraction as he tapped the vase full of sea glass and turned his head to smile at her. She couldn't help it, there was something in his smile that just made the inside of her light up and return the smile without forcing it there.

“Tis sufficient… Not the luxury a princess requires… but sufficient…” he said softly… the Berber accent highlighting certain consonants.

She laughed then, seeming to remember him inspecting her home and saying: "Do you intend to make me a princess then? I thought you must be born one, not made one. Unless you're really the Arabian Prince I tell tales about and you plan to make me into your princess, but then I would be quite embarrassed to have acted so..." She paused, shaking her head, she couldn't find the right word to fit what she wanted to say. How to explain that as he nudged her up the stairs and that moment when eyes said more than words could, that her breath was coming and yet felt strangled, quite blissfully in her throat, with her heart hammering in her chest and her lips close enough to his that she could of kissed him and felt no remorse or guilt for it. She would have been quite embarrassed over it, enough that she would have run out.

Snapped to reality, he still stood before the girl named Briseis… “A princess can be born or made… and in my eyes, yu are a princess. As for me, I am a prince… a prince of my own destiny… but in this life, I am but a man who has a mystical life… from the throes of a lower class, in the right place, at the right time, to lead great armies into battle… to live thru defeat and victory… to become the Amir’s emissary to a foreign land… ready to do the Amir’s bidding… but I am yet another story to unfold…” he smiled and winked.

As he walked around the room, his attention focused upon the sea glass. As his fingers lightly touching the glass container, he turns his head, the hair shifting, his eyes focus upon her and the smile reappears. His attention goes back to the glass container, he stands erect and walks around, as if inspecting the room.

"It's silly I know, but I collect it, it's the one thing that reminds me of home, because it washes up on all beaches. I was taught how to make it expand and stretch to make different things. Sometimes leaving it as it is and making jewelry… here…" She paused as she crossed the floor to the cabinet in the corner, there was one single drawer that stood in a cabinet devoid of any other drawers yet the openings displayed it had one time had many. Opening the drawer, her hand pressed in and retracted before shutting it behind her and turning to face him.

Silence was broken by the girl… but the Master did not mind, as his attention was fully focused upon her… and her voice was as a soft breeze upon the hot desert sands… “Tis not silly at all girl… tis but an activity… an interest that is undertaken for pleasure.. for relaxation… in one's spare time…”spoken softly as she crossed the room… his attention drawn by her… especially when she stood before him.

Then as he nears her bed, he squats down and feels the mattress… “Comfortable??” he inquires without looking at her.

His back to her, he remained squatted down, feeling the mattress; the air of mystery about him. He was simple, yet complex… quiet, yet spoke volumes… inquisitive, yet unintrusive. He stood and turned toward her; that charming smile formed once again.

A smile touched her lips as she watched him continue about the room. "Well it’s no exotic bed with colorful fabrics draped around it but its this or sleeping on the floor."

And to that, a wicked smirk crossed that charming, hard-tanned face. Chocolate eyes kept veering from her to the bed… and he just nodded… “Depends !!” then he looked away and back to her.

Her arms came to cross over her chest as she lazily moved a step forward, towards him and then another until she paused a few steps away from him as he turned and gave her that charming smile of his that made her head coke to the side just a fraction and return the grin. "There is a legend, that once there was an island, not far from Carnia, called Atlantis, it was a land of ancient people who had an intelligence beyond that of even our time. It's also said that they knew how to color and mold glass, sort of like how I was taught but this island Atlantis, for whatever reason, no one knows why, it was cursed by the gods, and with its people, sank into the sea but to this day, these pieces of glass they created and once molded, still wash up on the shores of any beach that would have them. It's my favorite tale...as is the glass…"

His head bent forward a bit as he looked at her, nodding. “Yes, I have heard of the land west of the pillars of Heracles… In my culture we refer to it as the Land of the West… or Island of Fire.”

As she spoke she moved towards him. "There was an old woman in Carnia who lived by the sea, she was once a slave like me..." It was the first she had said it, did this prove she trusted him? It did.

Her words did not startle him, for inside his mind, he knew she was once a slave… and maybe, inside her heart and mind, she still was. He smiled at the fact that she admitted such and in doing so placed all her trust in him. The smile was not one of humor… or disgust… but one of confirmation.

"Once she got older, her hands would shake, she would often drop things until finally she could hardly hold onto things. They released her and she moved to the sea, to help the ailment in her hands, she would find sea glass and make it into wonderful things, from vase's to windows and all the way down to jewelry. On the days my master would have no need of me, I would visit her and go glass hunting with her, she taught me how to mold it like she did, though not as well." Her hand, clutching whatever possession she had retrieved from the drawer, opened, the thin piece of black leather uncoiled as her palm rolled downward and there dangled a single piece of dark blue sea glass that slowly faded to a softer blue.

"It was the very first one I had ever found…" She spoke again after a moment of silence. Taking the two opposite ends of the rope, she moved towards him and held it up moving until she was a breath away, close enough to feel the heat emitting from his body. Her fingers smoothed the hair back away from his neck as her arms encircled it and her hands moved without sight to tie a knot into the rope before moving her hands back and fixing the stone so it lay in the middle of his chest. "So you will not forget me hmm?" A small smile touched her lips as she drew a step back and then another.

Her story, her admittance of enslavement, and now her gift… these coupled with her closeness, set afire something inside him. He could smell her sweet fragrance again as she tied the cords. Her lightest touch was electrifying and formed a tingling sensation along his spine. Hair had fallen forward and down around his face as he bent over slightly so she could reach.

The stone was placed upon his chest and for a moment she simply watched it, waiting for it to pulse, moved by his heart beneath his skin and bones. It didn't move and she raised her eyes to his face, her head tilted so that again, she was nearly kissing his lips with the way he was bent so she could tie the cord. Her hand moved upward, so close to his chest as it continued its trek upward to his hair that had fallen in front his face. Long and slender digits caught the hair and pushed it back, the tips of her fingers pressed against his scalp as her wrist flicked, her hand rolled to place the hair back just so, the way it was before and then she was removing her hand and taking a step back.

Dark eyes peered at the tops of white breasts, and he momentarily closed his eyes. As she moved back, he opened his eyes and looked at her, when she adjusted the stone. Light blue shown bright against sun-tanned dark skin highlighted by the white shirt. “Girl, know this now, I shall never forget you… I need no material thing to remember yu by, for I have burned yu into memory. But I am ever most grateful for the gift…” that Berber accent flavoring the words to an exotic overtone.

A moment caressed and a moment missed. She had wanted to kiss him, to pull that warmth of him into herself, to let him possess her mind, body and soul and just give in but she let the moment pass by, no matter how right it felt. Striking blue eyes rose to his face as he spoke, breaking the own spell she had been under and she moved forward again, this time her fingers found his lips and pressed there, but it was a second too late, what had been said could not be taken back and even in this simple and yet seemingly innocent gesture, she felt her heart increase in pace, ready to nearly come out of her chest. "You shouldn't say things like that. At least this..." Her hand left his lips to touch the gift she had given him "…can be taken off if you ever come to hate me, but burned into your memory..." She shook her head as she stopped, She didn't want to say the rest, didn't want to say he was all ready burned on her own memory, that in looking at him she felt like she had always known him, even to say it in her own head sounded so insane and stupid so she just let her hand pull back from the stone from the front his chest as she took a step back again only to inhale and hold it to try to calm the pound of her heart.

He could have taken her into his arms and kissed her ever so passionately… and even placed her upon her own bed and made love to her for hours to the point where one of them would beg for mercy to stop… But he resisted the urge of man… for she was special… not just some slave, or tavern whore… The only sign of his mental train was his increased breathing, his eyes that peered into her, and tightened trousers. Her step back snapped him back to reality.

"So you have seen my shop and my living arrangements. Would you like to see what I do in my spare time besides searching for sea glass?" A delicate brow arched upward and the look on her face was one that no one had could ever had they had seen on her before, playful.

Oh damn… yet another wicked smirk… “I would love to, but, I just remembered some things about this Atlantis yu spoke of…” Then he sat next to her bed… his long legs crossing in front of him. “My turn to share a story…” then his hands clasp her arms and he sat her down upon the floor.

Once more she was drawn into his smile, once more glad of the distraction but oh how wicked that smile was and still she could not help but grin. That grin alone could cause trouble though she was quite sure he lived up to his name all ready. Dark Rebel. Kept from home why? To spy on people here. The puzzle pieces didn't fit, not yet but somewhere in there she was sure he had been sent away so he wouldn't create trouble at home. Her breath hitched within her throat as he clasped her arms and pulled her down to sit on the floor, but she went so willingly, his touch nothing more than a breath upon her skin and yet it scorched into her very skin, seeping into her insides. Why did his touch do that to her? It terrified her and yet she was comfortable within him, the fear just a small murmur in the back of her mind, quitted when he touched or was near her. Leaning against the mattress, her arm propped upward, her fingers woven into the golden wheat strands of her curls as she leaned her chin into her palm and smiled in his direction, giving him her full attention.

With a soft voice he began… “My Mother’s Egyptian historian, Manetho, often referred to a period of thirteen thousand nine hundred years as "the reign of the gods," and placed this period at the very beginning of Egyptian history. These 13,900 years were probably a recollection of your Atlantis. We do claim descent from "the twelve great gods," which means the twelve gods of Atlantis, to wit, Poseidon and Cleito and their ten sons.” He smirked at her, possibly referring to him and her as a prince and princess.

Again and Again, when he grinned at her and she grinned back. She caught the possible reference and just continued to grin. It was to her a tease that was all. You could not turn a slave into a princess that was not how the world worked; at least not her world. Briseis' gift was not being a midwife nor working sea glass, it was acceptance, it was adapting. Though she didn't know it of herself, Briseis could adapt, to any situation thrust upon her by accepting it, learning the trade, and then accepting to doing; but him speaking of her being a princess, especially in his eyes, just made her think it was all a tease. The reason for this was because her mind could not find the answer of 'why not?' because it worked on being practical by accepting, adapting, and just surviving.

He continued… “In my mother’s Egypt, they have the oldest of the Old World children of Atlantis; in her magnificence we have testimony to the development attained by the parent…” referring to the parent country of Atlantis… “… by that parent whose kings were the gods of succeeding nations, and whose kingdom extended to the uttermost ends of the earth.”

He then poses her a question of thought… “Could it be that the Egyptians still remember their ancestors who had been the founders of their advanced civilization?” simply canting his head. “In their system of myths and gods, the deity, Thoth is highlighted… Thoth is considered the tongue and ears of Ra, their sun god. It is Thoth, who is said to have introduced inventor of writing, astronomy, mathematics and civilization in general to mankind. Thoth is often called Tehuti, the Scribe or the Measurer. Moreover, he was in command of foreign people!” his Berber accent adding a sense of charisma and mystique to the story.

He would find when he looked at her, that she was not looking at him. Posed with a question, her eyes had left his, scanning left to right over the ceiling above his head as her mind tossed the question within. Yet she was still listening, catching each word. It was an amazing story, a beautiful and magnificent idea. Egyptians descended of the Atlantis people. Why not? The pieces of the story seemed to fit despite the gaps, the openings in which questions formed. But theory lead to the pieces connecting, even in some odd way, they fit. It was indeed a very beautiful story and though some would see it as a farfetched ideal of a single race, it made perfect sense, to her. Her eyes left the ceiling, in time to catch him looking at her and grinning. Her smile was hidden as her face twisted, her lips pressing to her upturned arm before pulling back again. "Go on.." she encouraged.

He watched her for expression, smiled, then continued… “According to their writings, such as the Book of the Dead, the Papyrus of Ani, the Hymn of Rameses, and the Pyramid Texts, Thoth was born in a distant country to the west, across a body of water. Its main city was by the sea… The land possessed volcanoes and the city had a low mountain or large hill in the center. This land was known as the Island of Fire. Thoth is known as Lord of the Horizon; and like Poseidon, the earthshaker, Thoth is sometimes called Cleaver of the Earth."

Scattered as facts may be, an interesting picture emerges from the numerous references to Thoth in the earliest writings of the ancient Egyptians--and that picture fits the theory of an Atlantean origin. Although late writings depict him as a god, the earliest texts depict him as a king.

He sat and looked at her, a bit sullen, but no less the Master… “It is written that a very large catastrophe occurred which darkened the sun and disturbed the gods, but it was Thoth that led them across the sea to an eastern country…” he smiles… “of which they believe was Egypt.” Settling back on his hands, he looks to her. “Thus, it appears that Thoth was once the ruler of an Island Kingdom in the West before the Egyptian priests turned him into a god. The question therefore is… Was the Egyptian Tehuti, or Thoth, originally a migrant from Atlantis, and did he once rule as a king there?” A bit of frustration settled in as he sat forward… “Were the Egyptian gods no more than the survivors of this Atlantis? Was their god Tehuti a kind of a colonial ruler?”

Supporting this migration tradition, Diodorus of Sicily writes: "The Egyptians were strangers, who, in remote times, settled on the banks of the Nile, bringing with them the civilization of their mother country [Atlantis?], the art of writing, and a polished language. They had come from the direction of the setting sun [the far West] and were the most ancient of men.

Kamenwati shook his head a bit… and away went the solemnity. “So yu see… my favor with Allah may be a bit tarnished… I try to profess my loyalty and obedience to Allah, but I often falter with thoughts of my Mother's Egypt…” he looks down then back to her… “Once I may have been considered inferior to the Marinids… until I met a… mermaid, either real or dreamt… My life seemed to turn around then…”

Her head seemed to pick off of her arm as he mentioned meeting a mermaid, whether real or dream. Though she was fully enthralled in the story, this seemed to peak her interest very much. "You met a mermaid? I'd like to hear about that sometime...." Lips pressed in a thin line of apology, her mouth ran away with her sometimes and she muttered "Sorry! please, go on.."

His hands clasp together in his lap, he looks to her. “As as it has been for the last twenty-five years, unrest in the Desert has been the norm… Terror was the by-word. The Amir’s first born, Abu Hasan Uthman was a wicked, wicked man, killing and raping many… England had been pursuing trade with the peoples of the Desert, right alongside with Venice.”

He paused, inhaled, and continued… “Unbeknownst to many, were the enslavement of Islamic people, by the English in retaliation for the losses suffered under the Crusades. It was the Armies of the Desert, many years ago, that razed the Crusaders' castles, and drove them to Cyprus. Now it was the subversive English who enacted retribution in silence. Even though the Amir, and the peoples of the Desert knew openly of this travesty, it was not brought to the forefront because of the international implications. No one wanted a second generation of Crusades. Even some rumored that the Amir’s own first born was deeply involved in the travesties.”

Now it was he, who would place his trust… nay, his very life… in her hands. “Last year, I witnessed the conqueror of the great English... riding under a black and gold banner. I saw the very bodies of the Gryphon, alive, intertwined… The Eagle and the Lion… both shaking hands in front of the English King’s palace. I witnessed the burning of an ancient throne. All this had come to pass.“ he watched her.

Hesitantly he spoke, his dark eyes never leaving her… “The Amir wants me to find this man… to convince him to stay clear of the peoples of the Desert… His name…” he paused… “…is Adam o’Aberdeen…”

For whatever reason, it could not be distinguished yet, she focused on him saying she knew of the Mo’r Triath and she choose to answer it, though it was not a question, despite all he had said, she went to that first. "Yes, I know of him... but not well..." Her mind seemed to scream at her then to fit the pieces together. The missing pieces of who he was here to spy on suddenly clicked in her head and suddenly she burst out with a resounding "OH!" as she lifted up off of her lean against the mattress and then was still and silent, the shock plain on her face as her mind echoed his words back at her, fitting the holes with the information it had been missing. It now made sense. Now she understood why a sultan would be interested in people of these lands. He had placed his trust in her, no, his life, by telling her this and that shocked her more than the story he had told her. He may not of intended it this way, but Briseis saw it was he was asking for her help, by supplying information on the Mo'r Triath.

The long dark hair upon his head shook as he nodded. His listening, attentive upon every word. And when the realization hit her, her expression made his smile. His one hand raised in a passive way to calm her of any fear.

For such a long moment, which no doubt felt like an eternity to him, she remained silent weighing the options in her head. She had unspoken loyalty to the Duke and Duchess of Skye and these were their people. Would this seem like a betrayal to them if she told Kam what she knew? Would she then be a traitor? Would she go on trial for such a crime? Would death follow or would she be exiled from here, and if she were sent away, where then could she go? But again her mind ran to Kam, she knew him, of this she had absolutely no doubts, it may nor of been this life but perhaps one or many before it? She had no one and now she had a single friend...no not friend, she was not sure what he was to her yet but friend was to lose a word, could she turn him away? She knew right away she could not, she had no one in Skye, despite her loyalty to its leaders, none of them had become remotely close to the family she had once had in Carnia, none had come remotely close to Kam. In this, she had her answer. She would explain the loyalties of the Mo’r Triath to his endless love for Beathag, and the wars he endured to make a place safe for them.

Again, his hair shifted, sensual, though not intended so, as he canted his head to listen to her. Would she turn him in to the authorities as a spy…? Would she turn him away in fear? Nay, she spoke what she knew… and this surprised him a bit… this girl, only knowing him for a few hours, would delve such information. Had he been anyone else, they would’ve captured the moment and applied pressure to her as an informant; but he felt something for this girl… a closeness he had never felt before. Was she the mermaid of his dream, who would transform him forever, as the mermaid did in the dream?

“She is a strong woman by the way yu speak of her. Willing to offer herself for her man. Odd…” His voice was soft and alluring.

Her eyes rose to his face as she leaned upon the bed again. "I am sorry to say that is the extent of what I have heard of the Mo'r Triath though. I am not sure any of that will help you convince him to leave the Marinids alone though."

His hand rose to her face… the palm warm against her cheek. Not in anger, nor abuse, but in a manner that could stir the heart. A caress, with such a light touch… a master’s caress… or a Lord’s touch to a courtesan… “Yu have explained much to me… it seems yer King is a strong man, in love with his woman… willing to give his own life for hers… Maybe Allah will grant me such love one day…” he paused at her last comment.

She shifted against the mattress, a thought suddenly striking her and making her grin in his direction. "You admire him though don't you? The way you spoke about him, the conqueror. Why have you not approached him yet? Do you think he knows what is going on and still does nothing? Perhaps you should, convince him not to return but to turn over his reign of power to you, then you could set things right, the triumphant hero...the prince becomes the Amir!" The latter was a tease, making light of the situation not because it meant nothing to her but because she was trying to understand it all. Most of it now made sense but now there were new holes that it made her feel wholly simple and stupid to understand what was right there in front of her. She did not understand warfare, would never ride into battle like others but she understood slavery, she had been born to it and accepted it but there had been others captured and brought to Carnia as slaves, those had been the ones resistant to anything other then what they had known before, wholly unhappy, punished often, beaten into submission and because of it, had their souls ripped in two just to survive it, empty shells of their former self. She would not of wished it on her worst enemy, had she had any enemies.

His hand slipped away from her slowly at her question. Was she a witch who could read his mind and heart? He looks away… pausing a bit, then looks at her sideways, his dark eyes, strands of hair covering them… “Yes, I admire him… which is dangerous to admit. He knows the Amir wants him to free the Desert peoples in the lands of Espania..” He pauses and lays his head upon her mattress, the dark eyes focusing upon the ceiling. “Me? A n Anir?” he chuckles… his first impression was that she teased him not… “The country is wrought with fear of the Uthmans…” then he chuckles again… “I, a prince?” he shakes his head slowly… “Not even related, except under Allah…”

"I'm sorry, I should not tease when things are so serious, especially risking your life to tell me this. Well not risking your life, I could never betray you… I..." Again she stopped, she just couldn't say it, couldn't say she knew him as if he had been with her the whole of her life...this one or another. It just sounded so insane, well not to her but she knew if she said it out loud it would. "I am trying to understand it all." It was not what she wished to say, but it would do, it was the truth.

He had laid his head upon her mattress, and when she spoke of never betraying him, and her sudden pause, he lifted his head a bit and looked at her. Laying his head back down, he chuckled once more… “I sincerely appreciate the loyalty but I expect yu not to understand, for I do not, and I am from that country…” Previously, though unconsciously, his hand had touched hers by accident, and lean fingers found themselves wrapping around her hand. Now his hand held hers…

In some countries, a man who lay upon a woman’s bed holding her hand would be considered marriage… just as stepping over a broom with a woman in others. He lay horizontal upon his back on her bed, his eyes focused on the ceiling, his hand caressing hers as she sat next to him.

The thought... of him returning to Fez, taking over the realm, and this golden hair beside him... had been seeded. Cleopatra had her Caesar... Would Kamenwati have his Breisis?

Minutes seemed like seconds… and eventually hours passed while the two spent time together. What had began as a chance meeting had transformed into revelation.

[Men of Skye]

Sleep Over

Seconds passed into minutes and minutes turned into hours, so slowly like the grain of a sand making it’s decent into the lower casing of an hour glass. Minutes seemed to pause, frozen in time as he held her hand in his own, laying across her bed as her head lay against the mattress. Yet just as time slowed down so people could enjoy the moment for more than a span of a few seconds, it must speed up to catch up with the time lost and before Briseis had realized it, she had fallen asleep.

WHAT is more gentle than a wind in summer?
What is more soothing than the pretty hummer
That stays one moment in an open flower,
And buzzes cheerily from bower to bower?

What is more tranquil than a musk-rose blowing
In a green island, far from all men’s knowing?
More healthful than the leafiness of dales?
More secret than a nest of nightingales?
More serene than Cordelia’s countenance?
More full of visions than a high romance?

What, but thee Sleep? Soft closer of our eyes!
Low murmurer of tender lullabies!
Light hoverer around our happy pillows!
Wreather of poppy buds, and weeping willows!
Silent entangler of a beauty’s tresses!
Most happy listener! when the morning blesses
Thee for enlivening all the cheerful eyes
That glance so brightly at the new sun-rise.

John Keats, Sleep and Poetry

One thing about Briseis that would never change with the times, was her ability to sleep like the dead. Half the building could crumble and she would sleep on. So it was not the pounding on the door that woke Briseis first, it was the sun, peering in through the window of the bedroom. She moaned, only to find herself nearly rolling off the bed, her body jerked, her hand flickering only to be caught in a tight vise. Groaning, her lids fluttered against the invading light as awareness slowly sank in and the vise became a warm caress of skin against her own. As the sleep began to fade from her eyes, she peered into the sleeping face and alarm welled up within her until the face began to focus. Kam... he had stayed when she fell asleep. Oh Gods! Had she fallen asleep before him? How embarrassing!

What, but thee Sleep? Soft closer of our eyes! He had fallen to sleep shortly after she did… but not before he gazed upon her for a while… to burn to memory, her face, the slight cresses of her closed eyelids… the hair, the way it befell her face. Meanwhile, a dark finger pushed aside golden tresses… oh, he longed to peer into sapphire-blue eyes; but if he peered too long, would she steal his soul? But slumber stole him away; his head lay upon the mattress not far from hers, his hand wrapped about one smaller… til the evening passed away and the lights of dawn streaked thru the open lines of the curtain.

She did not have time to dwell on it, the pounding downstairs had gotten louder, her name called through walls from the floor below. Struggling off the bed, she pulled her hand ever so slowly out of his, wincing as his hand followed hers until she was able to loosen it. Straightening up from the floor, she raked a hand through her hair as the other straightened at her clothing as she hurried out of the room, the stairs groaned loudly as she took them as fast as her feet would carry her.

Usually Kamenwati was a light sleeper, lighter than most… but that evening, it was as if he had been drugged, for he slept the night away; only to find her gone when he awoke. He was not startled to find himself in a room a bit strange, yet familiar. He had fallen asleep… oh yes, he remembered now. The smile forming upon his lips. His memory of her peaceful sleep flashed as a memory most cherished. Down stairs he heard her voice… and he smiled.

"Mrs. Hennesy" She spoke to an empty shop but to the face so anguished on the other side as she hurried to unlock the door and pull it open.

The woman was sobbing as she stepped inside. "Nothing... I've felt nothing, four days... no movements, no kicks… I… I… I… I thought it was nothing at first...but then today I realized, four days... four days..." She spoke cradling a large swollen belly full of life. Muttering as she whirled to face Briseis.

Briseis face softened as she touched the woman's shoulder and ushered with her other hand towards the back of the store. "Come to my exam room, we'll take a look, please try to breath for me, we'll make it right, come…" A voice all ready tender and soft spoken turned strong and yet gentle, comforting as she led the woman to her exam room. Sometimes the slowing of time is a good thing, and others, it makes the heart stop, makes the world fade away around you until only the horror of a moment’s time is before you. The moments that make your heart squeeze painfully beneath a chest of bone. Thankfully, the moments only seemed to stay still for just the span of a breath before laughing bubbled from the exam room. Mrs. Hennesy had felt the baby kick! These were the moments Briseis lived for.

As time seemed to speed up again to catch up with the day, a blink of the eye and Briseis was back upstairs, leaning against the frame of what would have a door to the bedroom (that had broken only days into her moving in, another thing to add to the list to fix) watching Kam sleep. Her cheeks flamed in embarrassment, not for falling asleep before him but of dreaming of him. Never until today had her dreams been anything but the stories she made up for children but through the night it had been him. Those near moments when they could of kissed and didn't, her hand against his lips to still him from saying she was burned into his memory. His hand upon her cheek. It all had seemed too good to be true and then she had woken up... and he was still there.

The shop was not very big, nor soundproof, and as he lay upon her mattress, he listened. The concern of the woman visitor, the soft voice of Briseis… then the laughter and the joyous relief of life within the woman’s womb. His head lay upon the sheets… and with a tilt of his head, he could smell her upon them, and his eyes blinked briefly, then closing, a smile forming. Steps upon the stairs, he closed his eyes as if asleep.

Slowly she backed away from the door. She didn't want to wake him. Not yet, it was still just after dawn. She had noticed that when letting Mrs. Hennesy in, the mist creeping up from the street like some fairytale. The sun had not been out long enough to heat the street enough that the mist would disappear. Moving to the Cabinet in the corner of the room, she pulled the bowl of fruit off the shelf and selected two apples, two pears and a pomegranate. She wasn't sure what he ate for breakfast but she wasn't about to have him wake up, hungry, and her not have anything ready. So she set into the work of cutting up the apples and pear and finally the pomegranate to mix in with it. Besides, she had plans for him today, if he wanted an adventure, she had one in mind.

As the stairs creaked, his eyes opened to find her absent, but he knew she had not gone far, for he heard her downstairs. Strong arms folded behind his head as he gazed upward to the ceiling, wondering how… and why… he was blessed with the friendship of this girl; a slave now free… The sands of Morocco far behind him in his travels; a task yet undone lay before him… yet he pondered none of them, only the golden-haired girl.

Stairs creaked again and he looked toward the door, a smile reforming once again. There she stood, beautiful, especially the way the sun shone against her hair. His eyes broke free of her face and he saw the fruit. “Good morning girl… Your day starts early…” as he sits up and pats the mattress next to him. He looked upon her and smiled; the vision of a slave girl flashed before him, yet the face was of Briseis… and the smile grew.

He had a way of looking at her that made her blush. He didn't need to say anything, just stare, it always let her wondering what he was thinking and then she blushed out of embarrassment for it. But this time it was the fact he said Good Morning, that he was still in her bed and the memory of her dreams burning in her head as well as waking up, knowing she slept beside him all night long.

If they had been in her homeland, Carnia, they would of been forced to marry, well, had she not been a slave. It suddenly made her realize, she didn't know if he all ready had a wife. Did he have several wives in fact? She had heard stories about men from that region, mostly about how barbaric they were, especially for having several wives.

A smile crept slow over her lips as she held up one of the bowls of fruit while moving to take a seat on the mattress next to him. "Sal ve' (Latin-Good Morning). Hope you like fruit..." Sliding her knee onto the bed, she sank down beside him as she handed the bowl of cut apples, pears and little pearls of the pomegranate fruit mixed in.

A glance to her leg as it bared when she slid it onto the mattress, his eyes refocused on her face as she spoke the odd language; assuming it was in response to his greeting, followed by a smile… “Yes, I like fruit…” his voice was soft, seductive, and alluring. Sudden visions of her feeding him made the smile grow.

She couldn't help but laugh when he said her day started early and slowly her head shook from side to side. "No, not really, usually the boys pounding on the shop door around midday wake me up, or if I can't sleep, then I get up early, I am usually a very heavy sleeper."

She let her own bowl sit in her crossed legs, her fingers picking at the fruit as she waited for him to eat first. It was customary not only with slaves but with Carnia's rules. Men ate first. "I hope I didn't wake you up… before I mean, I came and looked in and you still seemed asleep before I went to make breakfast. I am sorry about that too, falling asleep on you, and I hope I didn't bruise you any, I am a horrible sleeper, I move around constantly…" She stopped, a brief memory of waking up only to throw her leg over something large before falling asleep flashed through her memory and her cheeks flushed a deep red as she realized, it was HIS THIGH she had thrown her leg on.

Eyes attentive to her, his hand slid to the bowl and picked up an apple slice in his peripheral vision… he was first to bite, his eyes never leaving her. She would wait for him…? His eyes went to her bowl, a sure sign she was allowed to eat. More signs of her heritage, which he would lock to memory. “You did not wake me… apparently my body deemed it necessary to rise and meet the day…” Then her comment caused his eyes to revert back to her immediately. “I am none the worse… you must have slept soundly too…” he paused and smirked. “You can sleep ON me anytime…” using her words to emphasize the ON…

Her head ducked, sapphire eyes finding her bowl of fruit as she stuttered over her words, too embarrassed to look him in the eye now. "I... I… didn't get to show you what else I do with my spare time yesterday either. I have to stop by the market though first." She realized then she hadn't asked him to come, only assumed he would. "Or, um I'm sorry, if you're busy we can... do it… errr, I mean something... do something... another time."

Her stumbling for words amused him… Had he caused her a bit of instability by his actions or words? If not, he’d have to try harder ! He could not help but to offer her a charming smile, one that would fill his face. His head shook slightly, the long, unbound hair fluttered side to side, an errant strand hanging across his eye. “I am never too busy for my princess…” Oh the charm that lingered in his voice... “I am sure we can always find SOMETHING to keep us busy… in your spare time…” A tease… a seductive insinuating phrase… he held nothing back now; his comfort with her was soothing… much more now than the first time they met upon the beach.

A tanned hand went to the necklace she gave him as a gift, his thumb rubbing against the stone… Dark chocolate eyes would revere her from head to toes, pausing briefly only upon the bare leg. She excited him and it took all his strength not to push her upon the mattress and impose his will upon her. It was his time spent with the slaves of the Amir’s realm that kept his sated… for he had no time for a wife, much less the plural, wives, many men of his culture maintained. If wives were a standard of class, then he was underprivileged… Maybe that is the real reason why the Amir kept him from the household. A small, brief glance elsewhere, veered right back to Briseis.

“I shall follow you upon your duties of the day…” he smiled… “…if that is alright?!”

[Men of Skye]

Honestly, Briseis was not the brightest color in the paint supplies. She had been training for one thing only and when that had come to an end, it was being a midwife and that was it. She had never been courted, because the law said that slaves did not date, slaves did not marry. It was always the same, slaves were property and there was no arguing that. She had never been courted, but she had been bedded before, a trick because the master’s first wife saw Briseis as a threat. The truth was, Briseis hadn't really understood then what had happened to her anymore then she understood now how a simple bare leg was exciting him. Instead she watched him as she ate her own fruit, wondering absently what he was thinking as he rubbed at the sea glass necklace she had given him while he stared at her toes, her leg and upward.

Her words snapped him back to reality… for he did drift away, if only for a second… His sultry voice barely a whisper… “Yu are as near a princess, as I am an Amir… and if I deem it so, I shall allow yu to monopolize my time, and yu shall be spoiled… but for yu to feel yu deserve it shall be reserved for the mas… er, me…” he smiled faintly. Had she caught his words? …for he almost let it slip…

Her free hand shifted the bowl between her legs and reached upward to stroke by the hair that had fallen into his eyes but did not stop there, fingernails and the tips of her fingers pushed the hair back then traced their way back across his temple and underneath his eye. He had such a faraway look within his eyes then that it made her head tilt as her fingers dropped down over his cheek to his chin as his face and attention turned back to her and he finally spoke and smiled at her.

The faraway look was his contemplation of their possible relationship. In the matter of hours, nearly a day, he had grown fond of this girl… be her slave, or free… He had no wife… nor wives… nor even a woman to warm his bed… not even a friend… save her. And here he almost let it slip… She was free, yet the ways of a slave dominated her mannerisms… He was alone… her mannerisms, her sweet voice, good looks, and grand attitude, allured him to her. How could any imagination be restricted! And now she touched him… and his eyes closed. Oh she was making this so hard for him…

She returned the smile though didn't let her feathery light touch leave his chin. "Where did you go? Just now...you seemed so far away from here..." She knew that look, many had said she got it when she retreated inward to play out the stories of her creation inside her head. Her mouth opened again as if to speak and then closed. She didn't know what she was going to say, didn't understand the feeling in her to press her lips to his but she resisted. Would her body react to him the way her cheek had when he held it in the palm of his hand? Her cheeks flushed in the embarrassment to inflame and sooth that look in his eyes. Instead she did what she knew would relieve herself of those visions of her body pressed against his, her leg over his thigh, even if it was in sleep.

His eyes reopened… “Far away?” he shook his head… “I do not plan to be far from you… Whereist thy go, I go… and whereist I go, thy shall go…” he quipped a paraphrase of something he read once. How could someone burn within from mere touches ?? He was not a virgin, nor inexperienced in passion… but these two had barely even touched, much less kissed.

"Oh no work today, I all ready sent word to Ealora that my schedule was full today, I am meeting with her tomorrow. No, yesterday you said we could explore the island together, I have one place I'd like to take you, one place I have all ready explored. An if we're lucky, we can do two of my favorite things, provided we're there long enough." She was as done with her fruit as she was going to be, a few bites in, she lifted off the mattress, taking his bowl with her as she grinned down at him. "Up…" For once her voice was quite commanding and yet held the ring of playfulness about it. "We're going to market!"

Praise Allah… her words broke the tension… “yes, your favorite things would be grand.” It was odd to hear such a command from her… but she was free… and he chuckled at the mischievousness, and rose as commanded; his height far above hers, he stood close to her and looked down. “Yes MiLady…” he teased.