Love and Honor: The Coltrane Saga, Book 7 (34 page)

Speaking in fluent French, which the woman understood, Kit learned that her name was Anna Lebance. It was her job, she said, to make slaves ready for presentation to the caliph or sheik who bought them.

She crossed to a small table to get a cigarette, taking a deep gulp from a glass of tea she’d left there. She did not offer them or Abjar anything. “What is done is done,” she said. “You would be wise to make things easy on yourself and accept your fate. You are slaves now. If you do as you are told, you will live a good life, much like royalty. You will never lack for anything, except freedom.” She shrugged. “But perhaps you will not even miss that. When the newness wears off, you will relax with the other concubines to wait your turn in the caliph’s bed. Depending on how many he has, you may not be called to please him too often.”

She sighed, pausing to finish her tea. “Let’s get busy.”

“Doing what? You still haven’t told us why we’re here, and we have a right to know!”

Kit turned to stare at Valerie, surprised that she could speak French.

“Listen, bitch…” Anna Lebance took a menacing step toward Valerie. “I don’t have to tell you anything, but you were brought here to get cleaned up for the rich son of a bitch who bought you. I’m not taking any crap from you, understand? I keep those sluts out there in line, and I can handle you little prima donnas, even without help from the big monkey.” She nodded to Abjar. He merely stared straight ahead as though he had not heard a word.

“Now strip!” Anna growled.

Kit began to unbutton her shirt. “Do as she says,” she whispered in English to Valerie. “Act as if you’re scared to death, so they’ll think we’re beaten. The first chance we get, we’ll run.”

Valerie began to remove her clothes with shaking fingers. “I don’t have to act scared—I am. The thought of some fat, slimy old man pawing me any time he feels like it…” She shuddered.

“Shut your mouths, or I will have you gagged,” Anna shrieked. “If you think there’s a way out of here, you’re wasting your time.”

When they were naked, Anna circled them again, boldly patting their bottoms and squeezing their breasts.

“Yes, the caliph who bought you will be delighted,” she mused aloud. “Seldom do I see such fair skin. Are you virgins? That would have brought an even higher price.”

Anna poured herself another glass of tea before going to the door and calling for someone to fill the bathtub with hot water.

Kit noticed that while they stood there naked, Abjar continued to stare straight ahead like a zombie. When Anna left the room to find out what was keeping the girl with the bathwater, Kit covered herself with an afghan and walked over to him. “Abjar,” she said gently in French. “You seem like a kind man, with a good heart. You can’t condone what is happening to us.”

After a long moment, he declared, “One must accept one’s fate. It is easier that way.”

“Abjar, please…” Kit clutched his arm in desperation. He looked at her sharply, and for an instant she thought he was going to push her away. When he did not, she dared to press on. “You’re the only chance we have! You must help us escape.”

Hearing a sudden commotion, Kit leaped away from Abjar. Anna returned with two prostitutes who were to help with Valerie and Kit’s preparations. The girls laughed and joked as they sprayed Kit and Valerie’s hair purple. Valerie suppressed a scream when she saw herself in the mirror, and was told that this was an effect the sheiks and caliphs liked very much.

Kit sat perfectly still as her eyebrows and eyelashes were tinted with bluish-gray crystals of galena, her eyelids powdered with lapis lazuli shadow. She and Valerie were pretending complete submission. It was their only hope.

They were given loose-flowing trousers of transparent pink silk, fitted at the ankles with gold cuffs. Their bellies were bare above the sequined waistbands, and golden cups held their breasts. Veils were attached to their hair, but their faces were left exposed.

Valerie watched as one of the girls put rings on her toes, shook her head dismally, sadly. Kit chanced that no one around understood English and urged, “Don’t give up. He may help us yet.” She cut her eyes toward Abjar, who maintained his zombie pose.

“Even if he doesn’t, I still feel sorry for him. I like to think we’ll at least have a friend in that zoo.”

When they were finally dressed and ready, Anna Lebance brought them hot mint tea and lamb pie. She told them to eat and try to rest because Jaewal would be coming for them soon.

She started out of the room, pausing before Abjar. “I’m sure I don’t have to worry about you spoiling the ladies—in the time they have left.” She laughed cruelly as she closed the door.

Abjar’s expression changed as soon as she was gone. No longer was he cold and impassive. An angry fire lit his eyes, and he got to his feet with steely determination. Coming over to them, he said, “I will help you. I’ll lower you out the window, but before I drop you to the ground, you must knock me out. Jaewal will cut my throat if he discovers that I let you escape.”

“You speak English!” Kit gasped.

“Yes,” he told her proudly. “There was once an English lady in the caliph’s harem, and she taught me to speak her language.”

“And you heard everything we said?” Valerie cried.

He nodded. “That is why I decided to risk my life to help you. I knew you truly felt compassion for me. Now go,” he ordered suddenly, “before Jaewal comes back.”

They ran to the window and stared at the dark silent alley. It was not a terribly long distance down.

“Make your way back to the innkeeper, Hashim. Tell him that if he does not help you make your way back to Gibraltar, I will kill him the next time I see him. He will believe you.”

Kit believed him, too. She helped Valerie to go first. Then, when she was about to make her own escape, Abjar solemnly handed her a large brass candlestick. “Hit me with this. Hit me hard. Do not worry, I have a hard head.” He almost smiled.

Kit hated to hit him, but she knew it would save him from worse. He turned around, and she brought the candlestick down as hard as she could. With a soft grunt he crumpled to the floor.

Kit turned quickly and jumped out of the window…straight into Jaewal’s waiting arms.

Struggling furiously, Kit peered through the milky darkness, to see someone holding Valerie, his hand over her mouth. “One of Anna’s
kehbehs
heard the eunuch help you escape. She wisely sold her information to me,” Jaewal said, an evil smile on his face.

“You can’t blame Abjar—he refused to help us. I had to hit him when his back was turned. He may be dead,” Kit said.

Her pleas were stifled by a gag. “It doesn’t matter whether he helped you or not.” Jaewal laughed. “If he lives, I will have something to hold over his head. I have always resented that he is held in high favor with my caliph. Now he will use his influence under my guidance, for his life is now in my hands. As for you two,” he continued ominously, “I made a promise, and Jaewal always keeps his promises. At the next auction on the common block, you will be sold!”

He snapped his fingers at the men holding them. “Take them away. Whatever they bring, hold it for me until I return. I have to see to the stupid eunuch, and start back for the
casbah
before I have yet more trouble.”

Kit had thought that things could get no worse, but she now knew that the misery was only beginning.

Chapter Thirty-Five

They were taken through a maze of narrow, crowded streets in a district where the sight of two struggling women, bound and gagged, attracted little attention.

At the end of a long, littered alley, the man dragging Kit suddenly twisted her about to hold her beneath one arm while he unlocked a door. She stared in terror at the gaping black hole beyond, wondering if they were just going to be thrown into some pit to die. Then he reached inside for a lantern, fumbled to light it, and began to pull her down a narrow, stone stairway.

The air was cool and sour-smelling, like rotting garbage, and the farther they descended, the colder and more unpleasant it became. Behind her, in the arms of the other man, Valerie whimpered with each step.

Rounding a sharp curve, they suddenly found themselves in a large chamber, bathed in a sickly mellow light from small hanging lanterns. Kit reeled at the horrible sight before her. Women, sick and dirty, were sprawled on the stone floor. Some wore rags, others were naked. They all had blank expressions on their haggard faces, and their eyes were dull and unseeing.

A huge rawboned woman dressed in black came out of a rear chamber. “American?” she asked the men as they dumped Kit and Valerie on the floor. “Rich blood, too. I can tell. Why are they dressed so fine?” she asked, pointing to their clothes. She yanked away Kit’s gag and asked whether she spoke French.

With a furious glare, Kit nodded silently.

“Then hear this!” the woman snapped, not liking the look in Kit’s eyes. “I will tolerate no trouble here. My chamber is crowded, as you can see. There has not been an auction recently, but we will have one soon. Till then, find a place to sit, and keep your mouth shut. Some of these women are crazy. If you anger them, they might try to claw your eyes out, and I will not stop them. Understood?”

Kit just continued to glare at her and said nothing. With her golden hair streaked purple, and her eyelids a shimmering blue color, Valerie looked grotesque in the sickly light. She nodded like a puppet, and the woman seemed to see her for the first time. Taking a step closer, she observed, “You are a fragile little thing, aren’t you? Perhaps I will take pity on you as I have some of the others and give you some opium to make it easier.”

“No!” Kit cried sharply. “Don’t give her any drugs. She’ll be fine. Just untie us, and we won’t make any trouble. I promise.”

The woman shrugged. “Very well. Most of them beg for my favors.” She winked suggestively. “Some are willing to do anything to get them.”

“Well, I don’t want anything from you,” Valerie said firmly. “Just leave us alone.”

The woman laughed—a horrible, toothless sight. “Oh, I want to be there when you two are sold. Maybe the sheik who buys you will have your teeth pulled, as mine were, to make his pleasure even greater!”

Kit felt sick with fear. When their hands were untied, they quickly picked their way past the women sprawled on the floor to the farthest corner, and sat down.

Valerie clutched Kit’s hand and whispered anxiously. “What are we going to do now? How long are we going to have to stay in this place? What’s going to happen to us? Kit, I think I’d rather die!” She stifled a sob.

Kit squeezed her hand. It was her responsibility to be the braver one, she felt, because it was her fault that Valerie was involved in this nightmare. “No,” she told her firmly, “you wouldn’t rather die. Neither would I. We’re going to keep our chins up, and no matter what happens, we’re going to keep looking for a way out of this madness. We’re going to be strong so we’ll be ready for our chance when it comes. Abjar helped us. Maybe someone else will, too.”

“If they pull out all my teeth, I’ll kill myself!”

“Nobody is going to pull your teeth out. She just said that to scare you.” Kit wished she could believe her own words.

After a while they slept, hugging each other for comfort. It was cold and damp, and they heard sounds in the shadows like rats scurrying about. Now and then someone would begin crying hysterically, and the toothless woman would administer opium, bringing silence for a while.

They assumed it was morning when some kind of gruel was poured into a wooden trough in the middle of the room. They didn’t feel like eating, after they had passed but another hellish day, their hunger drove them to fight for a place at the trough.

Several more women were brought into the chamber the next day, and one of them approached Kit and Valerie. “I heard on the streets that there are two beautiful American women to be auctioned. A crowd is gathering, demanding to see you. The slave master is helping to spread the word, for it is said you will bring high prices,” she said, appearing almost envious.

“Thank you for the information,” Kit replied dryly.

The girl gave her a strange look and backed away.

“How much longer?” Valerie wailed. “How many days are they going to keep us in this hellhole?”

“Not many,” Kit assured. “They don’t have that much room left.”

Finally, after what Kit calculated had been four days, there was a commotion as a dozen men stomped down the steps and started dragging several women back up. Some screamed in protest, other went docilely, no longer caring what happened to them. The toothless woman supervised with a big whip. Walking over to Kit and Valerie, she taunted, “You two will be the last to go. I hear that never before has such a crowd of bidders assembled at the block, because word has spread that ivory skins are to be auctioned.
I
am even going to be there!”

“How nice,” Kit forced a yawn, pretending unconcern.

The women shook her whip menacingly, but did not dare to mar the flesh of her most prized merchandise. “You will get what’s coming to you—that I promise.”

She walked away, and Valerie huddled yet closer to Kit, unable to hold back her tears any longer. “Please,” she wept, “please, God, get us out of this or just let me die.”

Kit felt like crying, too, but she refused to give in to tears. She ground her teeth so tightly that her jaw ached. It looked as if there was no way out for them. They were going to be taken up to the auction block and sold to the highest bidder, and there was nothing she could do about it. It seemed a lifetime ago that she had walked in freedom, confident of a happy future. And oh, how she wished she hadn’t been so stubborn, hadn’t let Anaya get the best of her. She now knew beyond all doubt that she loved Kurt. Had she only fought for him, he would have been with her that night when Galen came, and—